Two Weeks Notice
by dutchtulips
Summary: Final chapter is up! RonHermione. Crossover with the Sandra Bullock film. Hermione takes a job as Ron's lawyer, but she begins to get fed up with him and wants to quit. But Ron, and love, has other plans.
1. Chapter 1

**SD - **Everything you recognize from Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Everything you recognize from the film, "Two Weeks Notice" belongs to Marc Lawrence and Castle Rock Entertainment. So not even the plot idea is original. Oh well! xD

**AN - **Hey guys, I've returned once again! Since wrapping ADIT, I figured I'd be out of the game again for awhile. I'd been hoping to concentrate more on original fiction, and the last several fanfics I've done over the past months have all been in another fandom. But not too long ago, I saw the GOF film, and I suppose it jumpstarted my HP love all over again. So here I am! And I'm also here for another reason, which is that "Two Weeks Notice" is one of my all-time, favorite films. I love it to pieces, and it often reminded me of our favorite HP couple. If you've never seen it, you really need to! It's wonderful! ;-) So I'm doing this crossover. However, I am going to take a few liberties with the plot here and there, because I don't want it to be like a Xerox copy of the film, and also just to suit my own needs. But they won't be anything over the top, I don't think. ;-) Anyhoo, I hope everyone likes it, because I know I'm going to have fun writing it. Enjoy!

Dedicated to my awesome friend Gillian. The minute I told you about this idea, I knew I'd have to write it!

---

**Two Weeks Notice**

-dutchtulips-

---

_"You know it takes a lot of kissin' to make a romance sweet,_

_And it takes a lot of lovin' to make my life complete;_

_Yeah, and it takes a lot of woman to knock me off of my feet,_

_And baby, you've got what it takes._

_It takes more than an effort to stay away from you, _

_And it'd take more than a lifetime to prove that I'll be true; _

_Well, it takes somebody special to make me say 'I do',_

_And baby, you've got what it takes."_

-- "Baby, You've Got What It Takes",

Brook Benton & Dinah Washington

---

"Hermione? Are you entirely sure this is a good idea?"

The voice of one of her oldest friends shouting at her had distracted twenty-seven year-old Hermione Granger, and she begrudgingly turned away from her task at hand. "Yes, Harry!" She replied loudly, and then, sarcastically, "That's only the thousandth time you've asked me that today, you know!"

"But he _is_ our friend, mind!" Harry Potter pointed out, and then the slender, freckled redhead standing next to him, holding his hand, added, "Not to mention _my _brother!"

Hermione's eyebrows drew up as she glanced over at the red-haired girl - another of her best friends. "You _wanted _to come!" She reminded her.

"I know I did!" The freckle-faced girl, Ginny Weasley, shouted back. "But we should be at his office, duffing him up, instead of here!"

"Which would leave no one left to protect the building!" Hermione replied bluntly, and sighed in frustration. Her gaze on her best friends drifted to the building they were standing in front of - Flourish and Blotts. In recent years, the old bookstore had fallen on some hard times with the opening of several other wizard bookstore franchises, in Diagon Alley as well as everywhere else. It was now facing being torn down for good, which was precisely why Hermione has dragged her friends along to protest.

She pulled impatiently at her wrinkled red robes as she turned back to the dozen or so wizards standing in front of her, all wearing badges on the front of their maroon work robes, in which a large letter 'W' was emblazoned. They looked quite angered and frustrated themselves, specifically with the young woman standing before them.

"I am a lawyer!" Hermione was saying now, gritting her teeth, "And this is not the way I usually prefer to litigate! I'll drag you all the way into Wizengamot if I have to!"

"Listen, lady," one of them - the name Stewart Ackerley stitched on his work badge - started, "I don't care if you're a lawyer, I don't care if you drive the Knight Bus! You and your friends here are gonna have to move out. We got orders to close down this building and that's exactly what we're going to do!"

"Well, that's going to be pretty hard, now isn't it?" Hermione shot back, flicking her frizzy brown hair away from her face as she held up her right wrist to the man. Fastened to it was a large metal cuff, to which a heavy chain was attached. The other end of the chain was tethered to the gate that had been pulled down in front of the entrance to Flourish and Blotts. Both the metal cuff and the chain were emitting a golden glow. "I've enchanted the chain Unbreakable! Just try to drag us away!"

Ackerley rolled his eyes. "You're wasting your time, woman! We've already dispatched the Ministry's magical law enforcement!" He turned back to his co-workers, who were raising their wands and ready to take down the building. Hermione, however, was far from finished, and was still yelling at him.

"Do you _read_, Mr. Ackerley? How many books on wizard law do you own? Have you ever read the Decrees of the Ministry? Do you _know _any of them?" She rattled off, growing more and more annoyed. "I have a _right_ to protest here, I'll have you know! Flourish and Blotts has been standing for longer than your grandparents have lived, Mr. Ackerley! And it deserves to stay here for another century, at least! For the good of the community, for our children, and their children! You have rich heritage right in the middle of Diagon Alley that you are indifferently going to destroy! You are -"

But the rest of Hermione's words were cut off as she watched Ackerley and his brigade unanimously raise their wands and point them at Flourish and Blotts, prepared to collapse it. Harry and Ginny rushed forward and grabbed onto her arms, pulling her out of the way and under the awning of the bookstore where they had been standing.

Grabbing at the chain on the store gate, Hermione turned to her friends, holding up two more wrist cuffs. "Attach these to your arms," she told them, "and link elbows. They can't move us!"

Harry and Ginny slowly did as they were told, attaching the cuffs to their wrists. They linked arms with each other, and then tacked onto Hermione, albeit somewhat reluctantly. She looked determined as she stared at the workers, but Harry and Ginny were slightly more apprehensive.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Ginny inquired. "Because I don't think they're going to stop!"

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, Harry's voice burst out, blurting suddenly and unexpectedly. "Ginny, will you marry me?"

Her flaming hair fanned outward as she spun on her heels to look at him. "Are you serious?" She asked, a surprised smile spreading across her face.

Harry nodded, beaming, and then a moment later let out a gasp as Ginny jumped on him, smothering him in an excited embrace. "Yes!" She answered him, laughing. "Merlin, yes!"

As her two friends kissed, Hermione looked up to see Ackerley and his men pocketing their wands, and elation welled up inside of her. "Guys!" She exclaimed, trying to get Harry and Ginny's attention. "You guys, they've stopped! They put away their wands! We've saved the store!"

However, the workers were only stepping back because, Hermione noticed - with a sinking feeling in her stomach - several Ministry officials from the magical law enforcement office had shown up, decked out in black robes and staring, stony-faced, at the trio standing at the bookstore's gate.

Hermione sighed and stamped her foot. "Wonderful!" She said dejectedly. "Not again!"

---

A few hours later, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny were riding down the gold-gated lift at the Ministry of Magic, along with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, bringing up the rear. After the wizards from the magical law enforcement office had taken the three of them away, they'd spent quite some time on the second floor office, Hermione doing her best to debate their way out of having to spend the night in Azkaban. Luckily, Ginny had been able to get ahold of her parents via Floo Network, and they'd come down to the Ministry to pay the bond for the trio's release.

As the lift doors opened, the five of them stepped out into the busy hallway, Harry and Ginny in front, their arms wrapped warmly around each other. "Thanks so much for a great day, Hermione," Ginny said over her shoulder, beaming at her fiancé.

"Anytime," she replied, giving her friends a tired smile as they walked away. Molly, thoroughly excited at the news that her daughter had gotten engaged today, ambled off after the couple. Arthur, however, hung back for a moment.

"Thanks for picking us up today, Arthur," Hermione said, looking up at him. "I promise I'll get you paid back."

"Oh, that's quite all right," he said dismissively. "It's obvious my daughter and Harry are feeling quite well; I wanted to make sure you're okay, too."

She nodded slowly. "Yeah, I am. I'm just a little... glum, I guess." Pause. "So... did he demolish Flourish and Blotts?"

Arthur's eyebrows drew up for a moment. "Actually... no. Your little demonstration today caused such a scene that they've had to postpone."

"Good. I still have time," Hermione murmured to herself. When she looked back up at Mr. Weasley, however, an apologetic look suddenly filled her features. "Oh! You know I'm not warring against him, don't you? I just... I don't always like what he _does_."

"Of course, I know that," he replied, smiling gently. "However, I would suggest... perhaps you need to meet with him and let _him_ know that." Arthur paused, staring at Hermione as she mulled over what he'd just said. She was gazing right back at him, the look in her eyes knowing fully what he meant in his words.

The moment was fleeting however, and before Hermione became too lost in her thoughts, Arthur was speaking again. "Well, I'd better go catch up with Molly; she's probably nagging the kids to death by now. Do you want to come along? We're treating them to dinner in Hogsmeade."

Hermione looked up, running a hand through her brown tresses. "No, thanks. I think I'll just Floo on home. I'm kind of tired."

"Sure." Arthur nodded, and as they departed, he called back to her again, as she was starting off in the direction of the Atrium. "Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Hang in there," her told her, smiling knowingly.

---

The fifth floor of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries - its luxurious tearoom - was packed with people; guests and employees alike. It was the night of the big benefit party that Weasley Towers, Ltd. was throwing, in which the realty company was donating a large sum of gold to the hospital. The mogul of the company - the man of the hour himself - was standing at the front of the room, in front of a shiny oak podium which had a fancy letter 'W', the realty's emblem, plastered on it. He was speaking animatedly to the crowd of witches and wizards, who were all dressed in their evening finery, as was he.

"... And of course, I understand how important antidote research is to our beloved St. Mungo's," Ronald Weasley was saying, "to all sort of magical maladies. Two of my older brothers, Fred and George, have been two of the biggest jokesters in the world since their birth, and they certainly made sure I knew what being jinxed and hexed was like!"

The party guests laughed politely, and Ron gave the crowd a charming grin.

"That's why Weasley Towers is more than pleased to donate in every way we can, in the fight to find more antidotes to cure more magical illnesses, giving all of us a chance to live longer, stronger, happier, and hopeful," he proclaimed, and then raised his wine glass for a toast. "To St. Mungo's! Skoal!"

His speech finished, Ron stepped off the podium as the tearoom filled with applause. Casually, he slipped into the crowd, drinking champagne and mingling occasionally. Now that the biggest part of the evening - giving his speech - was over, he was glad to just relax and chat with people. He was somewhat distracted though, glancing around the room every so often, as if he was looking for someone.

As he was getting another drink from the waiter, Ron felt someone tap his shoulder and he turned around abruptly. A witch was standing there, one with shoulder-length brown hair who looked vaguely familiar to him. She was smiling at Ron, and before he could say anything, she said, almost in a flirtatious tone, "Hi. Great speech!"

He returned her smile, and then extended his arm to shake her hand. As he did so, Ron was finally able to place her. "Susan Bones!" He blurted. "Good to see you again. How've you been?"

"Oh, fine," she replied, still beaming. "Just fine. I'm actually a Healer here at the hospital now. I was thrilled when I heard you were hosting our yearly benefit." Susan took a drink of her champagne before speaking again. "My friend Rose Zeller really wants to meet you, but she's... kind of shy. Would you mind?"

Ron shook his head, replying brightly - though it was somewhat forced - "Oh, of course not."

"Wait right there, I'll get her," Susan said, and then slipped off in the crowd. Right as she did, though, yet another person tapped Ron on the back.

Sighing, he turned around, but relief flooded into him when he saw who it was. "Harry," he smiled, glad to see his best friend. "Didn't think you'd show up tonight. I know you had a... busy day."

"Well, I knew it'd been awhile since we spent any time together, so I thought I'd stop by and hear your speech," Harry replied with a grin, as he bit into a shrimp kabob he'd stolen from one of the hors d'oeuvres trays. "Very inspiring, mate."

The redhead chuckled and shrugged. "You know I don't write this stuff all by myself."

"Yes, that bubble-headed lawyer of yours enjoys overlooking those things, as I recall."

Ron rolled his eyes, not unkindly. "Well, _did_. I, uh, had to let her go this morning. Long story. Anyway," he said, swiftly changing the subject, "I heard that you yourself had quite the day with a hard-nosed lawyer we both know rather well."

Harry looked up at his oldest friend, and was almost surprised to see that he was smirking. "What, you're not upset? I _was_ an accomplice in obstructing your business, after all."

The redhead merely shrugged, without replying directly. "But you _did _get engaged today! And to Ginny!" He held up his wine glass again. "Congrats, mate! Congrats! I hope you and my sister have a long, happy life together."

Harry grinned back, but with no drink to toast with, he instead held up his half-eaten shrimp kabob. "Cheers," he replied cheerfully.

"Ron?"

He whipped back around again, seeing that Susan had returned, and standing next to her now, a lovely young girl with long, dark brown hair. "This is Rose Zeller," she introduced. "She works here at the hospital with me."

"Hi," Rose said fawningly, gazing at Ron. "It's so lovely to meet you. Will you sign my _Witch Weekly_?"

The redhead looked confused for a moment, until he looked down and noticed that Rose was holding a magazine out to him. Indeed, on the front cover of the periodical, the title, _Witch Weekly, _was accompanied by a portrait of Ron himself, which was smiling lopsidedly and winking at the camera.

"Oh, of course," he replied and, feeling around in his pockets for a moment, withdrew a quill and quickly scribbled his signature on the cover of the magazine. "To Rose," he murmured as he wrote, "from Ron Weasley!"

After he was through, she clutched the copy of _Witch Weekly_ to her chest, and gazed at him fondly again. "Oh, thank you very much!"

"Well, er, you're welcome very much!" He told her, stuffing the pen back into his pocket. Ron half-expected Rose to leave after that, but when she didn't, he didn't know what to say next. Luckily, he didn't have to, when he felt Harry poke him in the back again.

"Hey, mate. Percy's just arrived. I suspect he's looking for you."

Ron groaned. "Has he? Where?"

Harry pointed surreptitiously towards the tearoom doors with his kabob stick, in which Percy Weasley had just entered. Ron spotted his older brother, plucking a canapé from a waiter's tray and popping it into his mouth. He also had a file folder tucked under one arm, which more likely than not meant he was here to talk business. He always was. He managed the whole of the Weasley Towers company, and he never seemed to take a day off.

"I guess I'd better get the lynching over with," Ron said sarcastically, and then politely excused himself, striding over to where his brother was standing.

" 'Lo, Perce," he greeted casually.

"Ah, Ron, corking to see you," Percy replied pleasantly. "Wonderful to see that the benefit seems to be going splendidly. However, I do need to speak with you. Care to step out into the corridor for a moment?"

"Of course," Ron said, masking the reluctance in his voice, and opened the tearoom doors and followed his brother into the hallway. Once outside, the doors securely closed, he asked, "So... what news have you, Perce?"

He started in shrewdly right away. "Well, the paper was lost on the new developments for the Budleigh Babberton estate because that vixen attorney of yours, Orla Quirke, was just too bloody busy worrying about her makeup that she forgot to owl the proper forms to the Ministry! Percy curtly reported, looking very displeased. "So now we have to start negotiations all over again!"

"I will admit that she wasn't... the most attentive lawyer in the world," Ron replied, humbly, fishing into the pocket of his robes. "That's why I fired her. Boiled sweet, Perce?"

Percy mutely took a piece of candy from the handful that his brother was offering and tossed it into his mouth. "_No_, that's why _I _fired her," the elder Weasley corrected. "Just like I sacked Cecile before her, just like I also fired Juliette before _her_!" Percy began pacing across the hallway floor, as he continued along with his tirade. "One thing you will never be good at is hiring a competent chief counsel! You need someone who has perhaps achieved all O's on their O.W.L.s, for example. Someone who has actually _read_ the books she owns!"

"Witches that smart often find me insufferable," Ron commented sheepishly.

Percy, however, snapped back, "I'd ask why not hire a man, but I daresay I already know the answer. Your counsel is not there to be getting flirty with!" He paused for a moment, dislodging the file folder from underneath his elbow and opening it. "Now," he went on, sifting through the papers inside, "I've been looking through several new prospects, and tomorrow I've set up a row of interviews in order for you to meet with these people. And I want you to have a new lawyer hired by this time tomorrow! Promise me you will do that, Ron."

He nodded. "Okay. I will, I assure you."

"Good," Percy replied approvingly. "See you tomorrow."

The elder Weasley started down the stairs, but halfway down, he suddenly let out an exasperated yell. When Ron looked up, he saw Percy staring at him, holding out his tongue. A hole, about the size of a marble, had burned straight through it. "That was an acid pop, wasn't it!" He exclaimed, and when his younger brother nodded, he said, in frustration, "Why do you always find that so amusing?"

"Very difficult to say," Ron smirked.

---

**To be continued...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Two Weeks Notice:**

**Chapter Two**

-dutchtulips-

---

The next morning, Hermione had made sure to get up bright and early to Floo to Diagon Alley at the right time. She didn't know when exactly she'd be able to get in to see him, or even if she would at all, but Hermione had figured that the sooner she got to his office, the better.

A thick book filled with papers was on the crook of her arm as she glided through the streets of Diagon Alley, trying to appear more confident than she really was. Hermione had taken the time to try and look as professional as she could muster, wearing one of her nicest sets of robes, made of dark purple silk, and a pair of black velvet Mary Janes on her feet. She took several deep breaths as she walked, feeling more nervous with every step - anxiety over whether or not this venture would work, and also for another reason, one that she wasn't fully ready to admit to herself - that she would be seeing him again, that he would be seeing _her_ again.

The high rise was now coming into view - Weasley Towers, Ltd. - erected conveniently right next to the tall, snowy white building that housed Gringotts. This was where the company's main offices were located, where Hermione knew beyond any doubt that she would find him. As she got closer to the building, there seemed to be more witches and wizards rushing about, and Hermione had to push through throngs of people to get near to the front doors of the office.

Her heart was beating a little faster now, the building seeming to attract her like magnet. Leaning against one of the two pillars flanking the entrance, Hermione pushed up her sleeve to steal a glance at her watch. Noticing it was almost noon, she smiled. _Lunch, _she thought. _He never misses lunch. Not if he's still the same person I remember._

And too right she was, because Hermione hadn't been standing there long before the revolving entrance door spun around, and out stepped a very familiar, tall, red-haired man - the very one Hermione had been waiting to see - chatting with a bespectacled, brunette witch who was walking alongside him.

Now that her eyes were trained on him, Hermione kept her gaze firmly locked onto the man. She began following him, from a slight distance, waiting for the opportune time to approach him. As she trailed behind him, she could hear snippets of his conversation with the woman.

"Well, we have your qualifications on file, Lindsay, so thank you for coming in to the interview!" He told her cheerfully.

"No, thank you!" She replied with a giggle. "Normally job interviews are so stuffy, but you made this one fun! Thank you for seeing me today!"

"Charmed," Ron grinned, and waved as she departed.

_Okay, this is the moment, _Hermione thought. _He's alone now. So just walk to him and do it! _Swallowing back her last bit of nervousness, she clutched the book in her arm tightly and strode up to her old friend, rapping him on the shoulder.

"May I have a word, Mr. Weasley?"

The redhead turned around, and when he saw who it was standing behind him, his eyes grew as wide as saucers. "H-Hermione?"

"No, it's your long-lost twin sister!" She snapped, brushing back her flyaway hair. "Of _course_ it's me!"

Ron looked quite speechless for a long moment, but then he at last seemed to recover. "So, what are you doing here, as if I didn't already know? You've been chaining yourself to buildings we own so that we won't tear them down! My men have had to call the Ministry on you a thousand times!" He turned around and started to walk away from her, but Hermione briskly followed him, staying on his heels.

"Well, why d'you think I've been doing all of that?" She asked rhetorically. "You've been making lousy deals, closing down places you shouldn't be just so you can extend enterprises! Now, I guess I'm not _supposed _to care, I'm just a small-time magical attorney," she went on, "but when you decided to fold on Flourish and Blotts, I had to do something! Eight O's on my O.W.L.s and one of the highest scores on the N.E.W.T.s in centuries, so you can bet yesterday's demonstration won't be the last from me!"

Ron finally stopped walking and turned around. Hermione expected to see a furious expression on his face, but was taken aback when she saw that he was looking at her thoughtfully, genuinely interested in what she was saying. "That _is_ true, isn't it?" He mused, having not forgotten over the years what a sharp mind Hermione had. Right now, the most remarkable idea was crossing his brain. "Listen, come sit down with me at Florean Fortescue's, will you?"

Hermione was stunned by the request. Every response he'd been giving her so far was, quite truthfully, the exact opposite of what she'd been expecting. She knew how stubborn and hotheaded her old friend could get, but instead his mood today had been nothing but placid. "Well, o-okay," she stammered, dutifully following him across the road and into the little alfresco café.

Ron sat down casually at one of the tables, gazing almost amusedly at Hermione as she tentatively followed suit. "Would you like anything?" He asked, gesturing for a waiter.

"Oh, no. No, thank you." She waited for Ron to finish his order. Once the waiter had left the table, she placed her book to the tabletop and folded her hands, attempting to maintain some professionalism, and returned the redhead's stare.

"So?" She asked expectantly. "Will you please at least consider keeping Flourish and Blotts? I'm perfectly prepared to sit here as long as I need to until we reach some kind of negotiation. Can we make a deal?"

He was still looking keenly at her. "Well, honestly, I want something else from you."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up, curious as to what he was implying. "If that is what I think it is, there's no way you're getting _that_. Not that easily! Not when I'm fully aware of some of your past romantic escapades..."

Ron would have laughed at that moment, but something told him it wouldn't be wise to push Hermione's buttons right now. "No, no. That _would_ be nice," he said drolly, "but what I _really_ need is a new chief counsel."

She stared at him, as her mind pieced together what he was requesting of her. Suddenly, "What! You want _me_ to be your new lawyer?"

"That would be correct, Ms. Granger." He was smirking at her.

Just then, Ron's drink arrived, a tall, refreshing butterbeer. He took a long swig, and as he set the bottle to the tabletop, he noticed that Hermione was shaking her head incredulously at him. "What?" He wanted to know.

"You... you couldn't possibly want me!" She said. "These past several months I've been fighting almost every realty decision you've made! There's no way we'd get along!"

Ron shrugged good-naturedly. "Okay, then, listen. If you take the job, I promise - I'll save Flourish and Blotts. I won't let that one go under. Plus," he continued, "I'll allow you to be in charge of all of our charity efforts. Thousands of galleons at _your_ disposal. What do you say?"

"I... I don't know, Ron," she replied, looking hesitant.

He threw back the rest of his butterbeer, and then set the empty bottle to the table. "Well, I _am_ going to need an answer fairly quickly, so if you could owl me as soon as possible, that would be great." Ron rose from his chair and reached into his pocket, dropping several sickles to the tabletop to pay for his drink. "You can reach me direct at the Phoenix Inn, in Hogsmeade." He handed her a rotary card with the address on it.

"You _live_ in a hotel now?" Hermione arched an eyebrow at him as she took the card.

"Well, I own the hotel _and_ I live there," he said sheepishly. "I'd best be off now, but, uh... I'll, er, I'm prepared to start you at a comfortable salary; one hundred twenty-five thousand."

Before Hermione could reply, she heard a dull _pop_; he'd Disapparated. Sighing, she slumped back in her chair, staring at the words inked on the rotary card: _The Phoenix Inn, 44 High Street, Hogsmeade, Scotland. Weasley Towers, Ltd._

She stared at it for another moment longer, and then silently slipped it away inside of her law book. Standing up from the table, she tucked the book underneath her arm, pushed in her chair, and left the café. Hermione needed to do some deep thinking over this, but she knew she was pressed for time. Ron wanted her to answer right away, and already she was ping-ponging between what to do.

She needed someone to talk to about it, and by chance she would have the opportunity to do just that in no time. Glancing at her watch, Hermione quickened her pace, rushing through Diagon Alley to the end of the cobbled street. There was a dead end there, a large brick wall stopping the road, and so Hermione stopped herself, fishing her wand out of her pocket and tapping the wall three times.

Slowly yet surely, the bricks began to shift aside, allowing Hermione narrow passage into a small courtyard, containing weeds and a lone dustbin. Dislodging herself from the weeds, Hermione opened the only exit door in the yard, and stepped into the warm, cozy tavern that was the Leaky Cauldron. Voices chattered throughout the bar, and it took Hermione several moments, dodging around the throngs of people, to find who she was looking for. At their favorite corner table, Harry and Ginny were sitting, talking and sipping on tea.

"Room for one more?" She asked, happy to see them.

They both looked up at the same time, and smiled. "Hermione!" Ginny said first, scooting her chair over slightly to make space for her friend, "We were wondering when you'd get here."

Hermione pulled up a chair and sat down gratefully. "Well, before we have lunch... I have some news," she told her friends. "And it's rather surprising at that."

"Really?" Harry leaned forward. "What is it?"

"Well, I finally was able to bring myself to meet with Ron today," she began, "and... well... he offered me a job as his chief counsel."

"You're kidding!" Ginny exclaimed.

"That's just what I thought when he offered!" Hermione told her. "I was arguing with him to save Flourish and Blotts, and the next thing I know, he's asking me to be his new lawyer!"

Ginny leaned back in her chair, still looking astonished. "So, are you going to take the job?"

"Well, I..." Hermione stammered, "That's what I was hoping you guys could help me with. Do you think I should? Some part of me feels it's a good idea, because if I do, I'll have these huge resources right at my fingertips! But at the same time... I don't know if I'll be able to work _for_ Ron! If he hasn't changed since school, he's going to drive me batty, I know it!"

"Well, what do you _want_ to do?" Harry inquired.

Hermione put a hand to her forehead. "I don't know..." She sighed. "But I do know that taking the job is the only way to save the bookshop. It is. And I'll also be heading up all of Ron's pro bono work, charity efforts, the whole thing. Which means saving Flourish and Blotts could be just the beginning!"

Harry and Ginny looked at each other, and then back at Hermione. "I guess that means you've already made your decision then," Ginny replied, the faintest hint of smile threatening to break the corners of her mouth. "You _are_ going to be my brother's attorney?"

Hermione sighed again, her face impassive. "Yes. Yes, I reckon I am."

---

_Two days later..._

Hermione sitting in her new office on the top floor of Weasley Towers, Ltd. - just down the hall from Ron's - was feverish with her current task at hand. Upon taking the job and moving into this office, she hadn't discovered the filing to be much to her tastes all, so now she had papers and folders scattered across her desktop as she attempted to reorganize. She was so lost in her work that she hadn't immediately noticed that Ron - her new boss - had come into the room, until she glanced up and saw him leaning against the doorway.

"What's this? Hermione Granger's work space not neat and tidy?" He looked amused.

"No, it isn't!' She replied. "Whatever lawyer you had before me didn't seem to know enough of the alphabet to file properly!"

"Well, never mind that now," Ron told her, stepping further into her room, up to her desk. "I need your opinion on something."

Hermione set some scrolls she was holding to her desktop and looked up at him. "Of course. What is it?"

"Well, which do you prefer?" He inquired, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing two quills. "The eagle feather or the peacock? We're issuing new uniform quills for all of the offices."

She raised her eyebrows at the question, slightly puzzled as to why Ron was bothering her with something so trivial. "Well, I don't know... does it matter?" She shrugged, but then stopped to glance at the pens. "Okay, okay... let me see." Hermione grabbed the eagle quill and scribbled quickly on the back of one of the scrolls. Mutely she tossed it aside, took the peacock quill from Ron, and then proceeded to write with it, as well. After that, she stood up.

"Go with the eagle feather," she told him, handing both quills back. "The peacock one is a little too gaudy. Besides, it tickles your face."

"Really?" Ron mused. "You know, you're the first person I've asked today to give me that answer." Pause. "No wonder I hired you! You're amazing!"

"Oh, well spotted," she said, fighting back a smile.

---

_Four weeks later..._

"So, what do you think?"

Hermione looked over at Ron - his expression eager to hear her opinion - and then looked back around her boss's office. "Black?" She said incredulously.

"Black!" He repeated, almost with a flourish. And indeed it was; his office was decked out in themes of black and gray - the walls, the curtains, the furniture. "How do you like it?"

She stared back at the redhead, disbelieving. "_This_ is what you called me in for? You pulled me away from the St. Wulfric estate reports for this? Is this _really_ what you wanted?"

"Well... yes!" Ron admitted. "It was a choice between the black and the blue. I wanted to know what you thought."

"You honestly want to know?"

Spotting the exasperated look on her face, he nodded rather meekly. "Well... well, yes," he repeated, bracing himself for her wrath.

Hermione did indeed look as if she might explode, but instead, the bushy-haired lawyer took a deep breath and, letting it out slowly, calmly informed him, "While black signifies an aura of sophistication and convention, it also can emit extreme negativity and tumult. Not to mention it makes your office look like a funeral home. Blue, however," she stressed, "signifies peace, harmony, and intelligence. Trust me, visitors to your office would be much more relaxed if you theme in blue. Much more soothing, and easier on the eyes."

One corner of Ron's mouth turned upward. "Truly? Then that's what I'll do!" He pulled his wand from his pocket, aimed it at the room, and gave it a heavy swish and flick. Within seconds, the walls and furnishings of his office morphed from dark ebony and into a placid periwinkle blue.

"You're right!" He exclaimed, pleased as he glanced around the room. "That looks loads better. Thank you, Hermione."

"No problem, Ron," she told him, turning smoothly on her heel and exiting the office. "No problem at all."

---

_Another two months after that..._

"Hermione? Hermione! Where are you, woman?"

It was one o'clock in the morning in Hermione's townhouse, and until a few minutes ago, she'd been fast asleep. A sudden, impatient voice had startled her awake, and she bolted upright in her bed. "Whozzair?" She mumbled groggily.

The voice shouted for her again. "Hermione, are you here?"

Growing more awake now, she made an indignant noise in her throat as she climbed out of bed. "Hold on, I'm coming," she called back, as loudly as she could muster, and padded out of her bedroom. Crossing the hallway and stepping into her study, she saw exactly what she had been expecting - her boss's head, sitting atop her fireplace's grate, the yellow flames of the blaze licking at his ears.

Kneeling down at the hearth, Hermione stared, disgruntled, at him. "Ron, it's one AM! What in the name of Merlin do you _want_?"

Momentarily, Ron smirked. "Nice nightgown," he commented, noticing the slinky, pink spaghetti-strap nightdress Hermione was wearing. But before she could hurl an offended remark back at him, he hurriedly began to explain his reason for calling. "I've misplaced the schedule you laid out for me for Monday! I've got all of those meetings you sketched out for me and I've completely lost the itinerary! I know I put it in my satchel before I left the office tonight, but now it's gone!"

Hermione wearily rubbed at her eyes. "That's because you didn't put it in your bag," she sighed. "_I_ put it on your _desk_ as you were leaving so that you _wouldn't _misplace it, as you so often do with the schedules I give you! Why else d'you think I refuse to let you take most of those things home? Because they always mysteriously disappear!"

Ron looked taken aback at his friend's outburst. "Stars, Hermione, there's no need to get so huffy!"

"Yes there is!" She exclaimed, pounding her fist against the hearth. "It's the middle of the night and you're Flooing me up about papers you know perfectly well you never lost!" She paused for a moment to compose herself. "Now... is there anything else you request of me? Because I have to get up early tomorrow to attend a wedding."

"Ah, yes! About that!" Ron suddenly said. "What do you think I ought to wear? I picked up these great new dress robes from Madame Malkin's just yesterday, dark scarlet and one hundred percent velvet -"

"Er, Ron? Didn't you and Harry already _decide_ on your wardrobe? You _are_ his best man, in case you've forgotten."

"Oh! Well, of course I didn't!" He exclaimed. "So, er, anyway... since you've raised the topic - you're maid of honor! What do _you_ plan on wearing?"

Hermione shook her head ruefully, though she was biting back an amused smile. "Good night, Ron," she told him, then rose from the hearth and left the room.

---

It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon in the Burrow orchard, under which a pulpit and several chairs had been erected. Nearly every seat was filled by Weasley relatives and friends of the family, looking on happily. Standing in front of the crowd, at the pulpit, was a vicar, and next to him, Harry Potter himself. He was wearing black dress robes, red-and-gold striped tie, and a white rose on his lapel, waiting anxiously for his bride to arrive. Indeed, after three months since their engagement, Harry and Ginny's wedding day had come.

Ron, encased in an ensemble that matched Harry's, was standing behind his best friend at the altar, also looking rather antsy, as well. Along with Harry, he kept stealing looks down the aisle, at times attempting to mentally will his sister - and also his attorney - to appear. He didn't understand why, fully, that he was wanting Hermione back in his sight. Almost more than Ginny, and she was his sister - the bride, after all! He sighed and shifted his weight to the other foot, not knowing what else to do.

After several minutes, all fell quiet as the bridal party started its walk down the aisle. The bridesmaids were first, followed just behind by the maid of honor herself, Hermione, who was clad in a very attractive, gold silk gown. As she stepped up the pulpit and took her place on the opposite of the altar, Ron met eyes with her and grinned.

Glancing up the aisle again, Ron saw his sister walking towards them, her eyes shining as they stared at Harry. Ginny looked stunning in her flowing white wedding gown, its long, lacy train drifting behind her. At the moment her feet touched the pulpit and took Harry's arm, it was then that Ron felt something flat fall on top of his head and down his front. He was able to grab it before it fell to the ground, however, and realized right away, after looking up, that an owl had dropped a letter on his head. He quickly tore into the envelope and scanned the message within.

He looked up at Hermione, after reading the letter, and it was then he realized everyone at the altar was staring at him - Harry and Ginny, incredulously. A curious expression however, was creasing Hermione's face.

"Oh, God, oh, Harry, Gin, I'm so sorry! Please continue," Ron told them, and without another word, grabbed Hermione's arm and pulled her off the pulpit and out of the orchard with him, quickly up to the house.

"_Ron_! Ron, what on Earth! How could you pull us out of the wedding like that! Have you lost your -"

"I forgot to cancel my date to the Ministry's annual ball this evening!" He cried as he dragged Hermione through the back door and into the Burrow kitchen. "It starts in twenty minutes, and they're hoping for me to make an appearance! You've got to help me pick out what I should wear!"

She couldn't believe it. She just simply _couldn't_. But she didn't have much time to protest, as Ron had already dived across the room and took a pinch of Floo powder from his mother's flower pot. He quickly flung it into the flames of the kitchen fireplace, then, still with a tight grip on her elbow, Ron pulled Hermione over the grate with him, and they were off in a blur of color.

The next thing Hermione knew, she had toppled forward out of the fireplace, and onto the floor of Ron's penthouse apartment at the Phoenix Inn. Ron had already rushed out ahead of her, in the direction of his bedroom.

Hurriedly she got to her feet, straightening the skirts of her now-wrinkled gown, and stomped after him, her exasperation boiling inside of her. Reaching the doorway of his spacious bedroom, where he was standing in front of his open closet and rummaging through it, Hermione screeched, "_Ronald Bilius Weasley_!"

He whirled around with a start. "What is it?"

"How could you _possibly_ consider _this_ an _emergency_!" She exclaimed, marching across the room towards him. "Did I _not_ explain to you what _constitutes_ as an emergency?" Not waiting for his reply, she rattled off, "You yanked us out of Harry and Ginny's wedding - our two closest friends on the planet - because you don't want to be late to a stupid Ministry party! That you're not even required to attend! If our entire office building had just exploded, _that_ would be an emergency! If you were in mortal peril, _that_ would be an emergency! Neither of those things have happened!" Hermione began pacing up and down the floor. "Just like you weren't dying the time you barged in on my Healer's appointment to ask what napkin rings to use at the St. Wulfric luncheon, just like you weren't dying when you Flooed me at 3 AM last week to complain about the cover photo of you in _Witch Weekly_!"

"Well, if it's any consolation, I _will _be dead eventually," Ron said facetiously. "But tonight I'm representing the entire Weasley Towers organization! And that includes you too, you know!"

Hermione sighed, crossing her arms. "... Not anymore, Ron."

Just about to grab his turquoise dress robes, he stopped completely at her words. "What are you talking about?" He asked quietly, turning around.

"I mean just what I mean," she replied, grabbing the matching blue tie to his robes and handing it to him. "I helped you get the paper back on the Budleigh Babberton estate, you gave me Flourish and Blotts. Let's just call it quits, okay? Because I really... I just can't take it anymore."

Still staring at her, Ron sank down into the chair next to his closet, almost as if in slow motion. For a long minute, he didn't speak; he only gazed at her. When he was finally able to recover his voice, he stammered, "Well, I... you... you... I think you're being... ungrateful."

Hermione's eyes widened. "_Ungrateful_?" She repeated. "How in the world could you call me that? The only thing I've wanted from you is for you to finally allow me to do my _job_!"

"What does that mean?" He shot back. "I do! You're the best bloody lawyer I've ever had!"

"Well, thank you for the compliment," Hermione said sarcastically. "But you do drive me so batty it makes me regret taking this job sometimes! You're constantly at my hip, and you treat me more like a secretary than you do your attorney!"

Ron got to his feet to face her. "But you _are _my attorney! I need you!" He protested. "And, you know, before I hired you I was capable of making all sorts of decisions by myself! But now I'm addicted, I have to know what you think!"

"Well, half the time I think you're the biggest prat in the universe!" She replied hotly. "Now, _I'm _going to go back to Harry and Ginny's wedding. I don't care what _you_ do, you can decide for yourself, because I'm not doing it anymore. Please consider this my two weeks' notice." And with a spin of her skirts, Hermione left the room.

Ron watched her depart, feeling dumbfounded. Slumping back into his chair, the bundle of clothing still in his arms, he whispered belatedly, "Please don't go."

---

**To be continued...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Two Weeks Notice:**

**Chapter Three**

-dutchtulips-

---

Hermione sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon. It'd been only a few days since she told Ron she wanted to quit, and right away she'd sent several résumés and had a number of interviews with a few businesses at which she was hoping to be employed next. But to her surprise - which had now become aggravation - it hadn't been going as well as she'd hoped.

Sitting across the desk from Owen Dervish - company head of Dervish and Banges, Hermione cocked her head at the handsome young blond man, listening almost indifferently to what he was saying.

"You know your qualifications are beyond outstanding, Ms. Granger," he told her politely. "And I'm thrilled you applied for our patent attorney opening. I would love nothing more than to allow you to fill the position right away. However..."

_Here it comes_, she thought, rolling her eyes.

"... Ron Weasley owled me this morning and told me that you are... absolutely essential to his organization."

Hermione gritted her teeth in frustration. _Only the third time today, _she thought. Out loud, she remarked, quite unceremoniously, "Of course he did. Well, thank you for your time."

She got to her feet and left Mr. Dervish's office without saying another word to him. Grumbling as she stomped into the reception room, Hermione hardly paid attention as she tossed a pinch of Floo power into the blaze of the fireplace that was there, stepped into the emerald flames, and shouted her destination. She knew what he was trying to do, what trick he was trying to pull, and she was festering with anger about it.

With a whirl, Hermione stepped across the fireplace grate and found herself back in her office. A tawny owl was perched on her desk, next to a pile of letters he had apparently dropped there. With yet another sigh, she walked over to her desk and picked them up. They were all from the various places she'd applied for employment. She tore into the first one and, seeing it was a rejection, tossed all of them aside. Hermione knew they'd _all_ declined her, and for the very same reason - one she knew perfectly well by now.

Brushing out of the room, she stormed down the hall towards her boss's office, and once there, gave the double doors a strong, careless shove.

The person she'd burst in to see - Ron - was sitting on the sofa in his office, a glass of elderflower wine in one hand and an issue of _Quidditch Weekly_ in the other. He seemed startled, but only by the noise. The sight of an incensed Hermione standing in his office was, regrettably, something he had been expecting all day.

"You _tosser_!" She shouted at him.

Ron's only response to the insult was to casually set his magazine and glass aside. "Why, hello to you, too," he greeted calmly.

Hermione threw the office doors closed again, and then turned angrily back to her boss. "You owled everyone except for the Hog's Head and told them not to hire me! I am unemployable!"

The redhead got up from the sofa and crossed the room to his desk. "Okay, well, listen. You have a contract with me, that explicitly says that you will work for me _at least_ until Budleigh Babberton is finalized, or I can stop you working anywhere else. And there's no loopholes, because you drafted it! And you're the best." He smiled. "Now, honestly, I personally believe you wrote it that way on purpose because, deep down, you don't _really_ want to go. Does it kill you how well I know you?"

Hermione glared at him wordlessly, feeling her face grow warm at his comment. And the grin he was flashing at her wasn't helping much, either.

---

"I can't _believe_ you're still going over that contract."

Hermione glanced up from the papers on her desk and over at Ginny, who'd just walked into her study, carrying two bottles of butterbeer. She handed one to her friend, who took it gratefully, and sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk.

Hermione leaned back in her chair and rubbed at her eyes. "Ah, I'm sorry, Ginny. I know I invited you over tonight, but this contract is driving me bananas. I can't believe I could've drafted something so stupid."

"Stupid? Are you crazy?" Ginny exclaimed. "I've looked over it. That's an impressive work!"

"Yes, but I'm trying to get _out_ of it," she replied. "And... unfortunately, Ron's right. The more I read it, the more I know there isn't a single crack to slip through. I'm too damn meticulous for my own good."

"I don't know, I think maybe..." Ginny started to say, but then abruptly stopped herself. She took a long swig from her butterbeer, as if to avoid finishing her sentence.

But Hermione wasn't going to let her off that easily. "You what?" She inquired, peering at her friend. "What was it you were going to say?"

The redhead set her drink to the desk, and then said slowly, "I... well, I was going to say, that I... you know, maybe Ron's right. Maybe you _don't_ really want to leave."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up, taken aback at what she'd just heard. "What! How can you be _serious_?"

"Oh, come on, Hermione! We both know what I'm getting at!" Ginny leaned forward then, plunking her elbows to the desktop. "You know as well as I do that you had another reason for taking the job, other than just saving Flourish and Blotts from being torn down." Her voice dropped lower. "It was because of _him_."

The curly-haired witch looked away from her friend at that moment, slouching far back in her chair. "I don't know anything of the sort," she replied smoothly. "There's nothing keeping me at Weasley Towers. Nothing. No _one_, either."

Ginny only shook her head. "Okay. Fine. Whatever." She paused for a moment, and then closed the line of conversation as quickly as she had opened it. "So, you can't break the contract. But if you're really wanting to get out of there, I suppose... well, Ron can stop you from leaving the company, but he's also the only one who can _sack _you from it."

Hermione finally returned the redhead's look at those words, her eyes lighting up as she understood what Ginny was implying.

---

The next morning, Hermione stepped off the lift and on the top floor of Weasley Towers, Ltd., a silly grin pasted on her face as she walked down the hall the direction of Percy's office for the weekly faculty meeting. Her hands, usually full of papers and folders, hung unusually empty at her sides today. She breezed casually into the office, where Percy and Ron were both seated, waiting.

Ron sat up straighter on the sofa when Hermione walked in, and immediately noticed that her appearance, usually so prim - robes buttoned all the way up to the collar, hair neatly styled - was immensely more relaxed. Her long nutmeg hair hung loose and bushy, and her robes were wrinkled and the buttons in the wrong holes. She was also chewing away at something in her mouth.

"I am _so_ sorry!" Hermione said brightly, bumping into Percy's ficus plant as she walked past his desk. She made no move to pick it back up; instead dropping down on the sofa next to Ron. "I am _really_ late! I'm very sorry to have kept you waiting!"

Percy looked annoyed as he snatched his potted plant from the carpet and, turning back to the two of them sitting on his couch, mumbled, "Forty-five minutes, for your information."

Hermione pretended not to hear. "It is _such_ a crazy morning in Diagon Alley today, pushing through all of those people just to get to the office!" She explained.

"Well, in case you've forgotten, there _is_ an invention called Floo powder," Percy remarked, displeased. "Not to mention your ability to Apparate..."

"Sorry, Perce!" She said, giving a light shrug. "I don't know _where _my mind has gotten to!"

The elder Weasley rolled his eyes, but said nothing. "Anyway!" He exclaimed, "Onto business matters! Estate reports! Abraxan's Knoll is due for filing this week! Hermione, I assume that will be on -"

_Bang!_

The immense noise filled the room, throwing Percy, who had been standing, back several feet, causing him to crash into the wall and topple to the floor. He sat there for several moments, dazed, before he was finally able to gain his composure and look up to see what had happened.

Ron was still sitting on the couch, a mixture of surprise and amusement on his face as he stared at his lawyer, who was looking sheepish as she reached into her mouth and pulled out what looked to be a wad of bubble gum. Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, to be exact.

"Sorry!" She apologized, as Percy got to his feet. "I blew too big of a bubble, I guess! I had no idea that was going to happen!"

"I'm sure not," the elder Weasley replied, though it was obvious he was not entirely convinced. He was staring, red-faced, at Hermione, as if he were fighting down the urge to reach over and slug her.

It was precisely at that moment that Ron chose to intervene. Clutching Hermione's arm, he said pleasantly to his brother, "Actually, if you'll excuse me for a minute, Perce, I need to confer with Hermione for a moment."

Without another word, he got up from the sofa, half-dragged Hermione out of the room after him, and down the corridor in the direction of his office. "Mad, you are mad," he started to say.

"I am?" She asked, pretending to be confused.

"Yes, you are. I know what you're doing." Ron's tone seemed tight, but he was showing no outward signs of being angry that it was hard to say if he really was. "You're thinking if you show up late and slack off and annoy everyone, that's going to get you fired. Well, I'm not falling for it! Not at all."

The fake, ditzy expression dropped off Hermione's face at that point, and because Ron was still holding onto her, she dragged him into his office with her.

He turned to her questionably, and saw that her normal, serious look had returned. "Ron, I have a spastic colon," she told him earnestly. "I also have insomnia, mostly because you Floo me relentlessly. And when I am _finally_ able to get a few minutes' sleep, I _dream_ that you're going to call me. I think about you during every meal of the day, and I even think about you while I'm geting dressed in the morning! Not in a _good _way," she clarified, noting his smirk, "but in a 'I'm-so-distracted-I-can't-match-my-clothes!' kind of way, so then I change my clothes again, and about four more times after that! So basically, I have intestinal problems, I'm not getting enough sleep at night, and today is the first day in my life that I actually slacked off at work! And I can't stand the thought of that!"

Ron looked at her, stunned by her outburst. Finally, he said softly, "I... I won't call after midnight."

But she was shaking her head. "You will, Ron! You know you will! You always do." Hermione paused for a moment, as if she were having trouble trying to say her next words. "I just... I can't... I don't think we can see each other, professionally, anymore."

The redhead stared at her for another minute longer, his surprise turning into compassion. At last, his voice sounding very reluctant, he told her, "All right. All right, fine. Stay on until you can find a replacement, then I'll let you sod off."

Hermione's eyes immediately brightened at Ron's words, and she grinned widely. "Oh, thank you. Thank you," she replied happily. "And I promise, I'll find you someone really good. Better than me, even!" She laughed and then leaned forward, wrapping him up in a big, warm hug.

It was so unexpected, Ron could hardly move. He tried to think, to say something, but the only thing filling his mind was how very aware he was of Hermione's lithe body pressing into his, her arms tight around his shoulders. Finally, slowly, he was able to reciprocate, and he did - returning the hug, encircling his arms gently around her, breathing deeply.

The minute Hermione had felt Ron's hands touch her back, straight away it made her alert of how long she'd been holding him. And even though she wasn't even looking at him, the thought of it was causing her face to redden. She tried to let go, but she couldn't. It felt as if some invisible force was holding her back - whether it was her embarrassment, or something else entirely that she wouldn't let herself think about.

But the moment was broken when someone entered the office, causing the door to rattle open loudly. The sound was enough to break Hermione from her reverie, and, as if he'd caught fire, she broke apart immediately from Ron.

It was Percy, his head and shoulders poking through the ajar door, looking quizzically at them. "Are you two through?' He hissed impatiently. "I'd like to finish the meeting before dinner time, you know!"

"Oh, of course," Ron blurted, composing himself quickly. Then, to Hermione, "You?"

She nodded, a little too energetically. "Yes. Er, yes."

"Well, then, after you," he said politely, pulling the office door open for her, and she gave him a cheerful beam and walked out, following Percy back to his office. Ron brought up the rear, watching Hermione's hair swinging from side to side, and as plain a sight as it was, strangely and suddenly it made him smile.

---

Harry was certain the world was coming to an end. There was no other way to explain the crazy thing that was happening.

Ron was losing at chess.

At the beginning of the game, when Harry had come over to his friend's apartment for an evening of chess, per Ron's invitation, he had quickly captured several of his pawns and even one of his knights. He at first thought that the redhead was sneaking in one of his famous playing tactics, but Ron seemed so detached that he knew that couldn't be it. Harry had never been very skilled at the game, and was never able to pick out his strategies until after Ron had clobbered him. But now, after over sixteen years of losing, the most amazing thing was happening - Harry was winning a game.

So of course, he knew immediately something had to be wrong. Pulling his gaze away from the chessboard and up at Ron, Harry noticed for the first time how distracted his best friend looked. He let out a sigh. "You're not concentrating," he said, realizing. "This offends me."

Ron shrugged and leaned back in his chair, still staring at the pieces but no longer paying attention. "Sorry," he mumbled. "It's just... I lost her this afternoon. And... it really upsets me, because... I've come to rely on her for everything, and I trust her completely. I really... well, she means a great deal to me, and I don't want her to go."

Harry nodded in understanding. "It's like that with women. Think about it like chess," he said, gesturing at their game. "Chess is straightforward. It's all about patterns. Black pieces, white pieces. Pawns are sacrificed. Knights trounce. Someone wins the game, someone loses. But relationships?" He raised an eyebrow. "No way. It's practically the exact opposite. They're unpredictable. You don't win or lose, really, when it comes to women."

"Well, what about you and Ginny? Wouldn't you call marriage winning?" He asked curiously.

A smile broke the corners of Harry's mouth. "I suppose I would," he replied drolly. "But Ginny won, too. That's what I'm getting at." He paused to lock eyes with Ron. "You feel like you've lost Hermione, without even considering that she probably feels the same way about you."

"But she _wanted_ to quit! She begged me for ages!" Ron exclaimed, puzzled. "She doesn't have anything to lose!"

Harry, however, only shrugged in reply. He put a hand momentarily over his face to hide his involuntary grin. _It's so obvious, yet he can't even see it._

---

**To be continued...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Two Weeks Notice:**

**Chapter Four**

-dutchtulips-

---

Only a few days later, Hermione was back to her old self, her dress and style neat and proper again, and the load of books and folders returned to her arm. At the present moment, however, she had several of them spread across the corner table at the Three Broomsticks, studying them intently. Seated across from her was Ron, who was in turn studying _her_ intently, though he did it furtively, nimbly, as he feasted on his lunch of shepherd's pie.

"So, any good prospects?" He asked her, around a mouthful.

She nodded affirmatively, shuffling through some papers. "Yes, actually. A number of good résumés have crossed my desk. Kevin Whitby has some impressive qualifications, served as assistant to the Minister for a number of years. And here's Malcolm Davies. He has a strong background in -"

"No," Ron cut in, setting down his fork. "I'd, er, I'd like it to be a witch."

"Ah. I see," Hermione said shortly. "Is there is specific reason for that, or do I really want to know? Should I only screen applicants who are part Veela from now on? Do you have any hair color preferences I should know about?"

Ron cringed at the remark. _I should have known better, _he thought, mentally kicking himself. He looked up at her apologetically, and as he did, he saw how tightly Hermione was clutching the forms in her hands, and it caused a surge of suspicion to creep up inside of him, and he couldn't resist it.

He reached over at that moment and laid his hand on hers, and the contact caused the papers to slip from between her fingers. "Sorry," he said, as gracefully as he could muster. "Are you okay? I'm getting the feeling that there's something else bothering you. You haven't looked at me the entire time we've been here."

"It's... it's nothing," she softly uttered. "I... nothing."

"Come on, please," Ron pushed gently. "You can tell me."

Finally Hermione looked up at him, and he saw that her usual luminous brown eyes appeared lank, somber. "It's just, well, my parents. Every... every couple of weeks I meet with them and we have a family dinner together. We like to keep up on each other's lives. Well, my mother does, anyway. She's... well, every time I see her, she nags me relentlessly." She paused for a moment to rub at her eyes. "It drives me so crazy, that now I look for excuses to cancel my visits."

"What does she do that drives you so batty?" He wanted to know, his lunch long forgotten now.

"She just... she doesn't think I chose the right job, she wonders why I'm not married yet, when am I going to give her grandkids..." Hermione rattled off. "She's been pressing me that way ever since I left Hogwarts. I guess she thinks that, as good as I was in school, I should have a better career." Pause. "Last night was one of our dinners together, and her badgering hasn't put me in the best mood today."

Ron straightened in his chair. "Well, listen. How about we forget about work for the rest of the day and I take you someplace? Cheer you up. How does that sound?"

She looked at him skeptically. "I don't think so. I've got way too many things to do today!"

"Aw, come on," he pressed. "It couldn't have been fun getting nagged when that's always been _your_ job!"

She surprised him then, actually laughing at Ron's joke. "Yes, I suppose that's where I do get it from."

"Well, then, come. We'll finish this up tomorrow. I'll take you out this evening. Anywhere you want. Okay?" Ron beamed at her.

Hermione looked unsure for a long moment as she gathered her papers together, but when she finally looked up at Ron again and saw the infectious smile he was giving her, she relented. "Okay."

---

The Three Broomsticks, as was always the case, was filled with magical folk of all shapes and sizes, and so the cozy room was equally immersed in chatter. It didn't matter, even, that it wasn't a weekend - the tavern had been Hogsmeade's biggest attraction since it had been standing, and thus it was always packed with people. Nevertheless, Ron was glad that Hermione had picked their old favorite watering hole in which to spend the evening. The perfect mixture of cheerfulness and comfort forever hung in the air.

And, as Ron had noticed, Hermione was taking perfect advantage of it. The two of them were sitting at a table near the back of the pub, the redhead pleasantly sipping on his pint of mulled mead. He actually wasn't paying very much attention to his drink, however, as he had been spending most of his time staring over his tankard at Hermione. On her side of the table, a tall bottle of spiced rum sat, half-empty, as she had been filling and refilling her glass the whole evening.

"So... I just, I don't understand it," Hermione was saying, albeit somewhat lethargically. "What is... what is wrong with me?"

Ron shrugged. "Well, tonight... large amounts of alcohol."

She continued on as if she hadn't heard, and truth, probably didn't. "My mother can't expect me to be _exactly_ as she wishes... can she? Because I am... I am my own... person! I can live however I... want!"

Setting down his drink, the redhead reached into the snack bowl on the table and pulled out a handful of Bernie Bott's every-flavor beans. "Of course you can!" He agreed heartily.

"Best... student in our class at Hoggy... er, Hogwarts!" She slurred. "And yet my... my mum.. all she can do is.. nettle me... about... getting married! It's as if she thinks I've... never been on a single date! And I've... been on dates! Plenty of men have enjoyed my company!"

"Er, Hermione? You might want to lower your voice," Ron warned. People at the tables near them were now giving the two of them strange looks.

Again, Hermione spoke right over him. "I dated Viktor Krum several years ago, didn't I? Bulgarian Quidditch star, he was, too!" She took a gulp from her drink. "And Cormac McLaggen, I went out with him, too! See? See, I've been... on, on dates!"

"Yes," Ron agreed, almost indifferently, as he chomped down on a banana-flavored bean. "You have, Hermione. Plenty of wizards... have fancied you." For one brief minute, he grimaced, but was able to wipe it from his face before she noticed.

"Right!" She replied, suddenly slamming her hand on the tabletop. "So then, what is my mother... so bloody worried about? I could get married any old time!"

Ron leaned forward, picking up his drink again. "Well, have you noticed," he told her, "that the only noteworthy wizards you've dated were when you were still in school? Not many mentions of any men you've been involved with after Hogwarts. Have there... have there been many?" He asked hesitantly.

Hermione let out a groan. "Well, no, I suppose not many," she admitted. "But I... that's not... fair! I'm not naive, you know! There was this one bloke, around a year ago... Justin Finch-Fletchley, actually! And... we had a great time together! Do you remember him from school? But I... I only spent a few days with him... he's working for the French Ministry now..."

"Well, there you go. Look at all of these blokes," the redhead replied. "Maybe it's just that they're all wrong for you. You hadn't anything in common with Krum, really. McLaggen had a screw loose. And Finch-Fletchley was a blithering dolt, if you ask me."

"Oh, no!" She disagreed. "Justin was very nice! We both loved studying and reading. He was very smart." Pause. "Though... I reckon maybe that's not very romantic sometimes. But... I don't know. I guess I'm just not a romantic... you know, person. Never really... felt that way about anyone, I guess. When I... dated Viktor, I blabbered about S.P.E.W. almost every time we were, you know, alone. Don't know why I did that..."

It was at that moment Ron surreptitiously grabbed Hermione's glass and hid it underneath the table. "No idea, really. I myself would have found it very arousing," he commented facetiously.

She hadn't noticed that her drink had gone missing, as she kept clutching at the empty air. "I don't know... maybe... maybe I'm just not very physically romantic."

Ron's eyebrows shot up at her words, and even though he figured it was caused by her drunkenness, he was still slightly shocked that Hermione was being so blunt. "You know, Hermione, I'm not entirely sure I'd like to hear about your sexual exploits tonight," he told her, a bit anxiously.

"You're right. There's no way I could be... horrid in bed," she replied, misconstruing his comment. "I'm like a manticore! I can bend like a pretzel." Hermione looked up at him then, an odd look in her eyes he hadn't seen before. "That's what men want, isn't it? I'll bet that's... what you want, Ronald. And I bet I could give you a manticore-pretzel thing."

And, without another word, she leaned right across the table and gave Ron a big kiss, right on the lips.

It was several long moments before Hermione broke the kiss, and when she at last pulled back, she mumbled to a stupefied Ron, "You're a... really good listener, you know."

He opened his mouth to reply, but before he had a chance, she moaned and finally passed out, falling into his lap. "Hermione?" He asked. "You OK?" He put a hand on her shoulder and shook her gently, but still, she was unresponsive.

Sighing, Ron got up from the table, realizing at once what he had to do. Carefully he swung Hermione's arm around his neck, and then he slipped his arm underneath her knees, lifting her right off the ground, and headed for the exit door with his best friend in tow. As he passed the bar, he said to Madame Rosmerta, "The back table with the rum was us. What do I owe you?"

"No matter, I'll put it on your tab, Ron," she told him graciously.

"Ta, Rosmerta," he said, as politely as he could, and then, angling Hermione awkwardly though the door, exited the tavern.

---

The next morning was a sluggish one for Hermione. Though her previous night's alcohol consumption had given her a whole night's sleep, she didn't exactly wake up feeling refreshed. She normally Flooed to work every day, but on this particular morning had found she didn't really have much energy to do so. Her townhouse was just down the road from the Leaky Cauldron, so she'd opted to enter Diagon Alley that way.

Before she'd left the pub, she'd ordered a tall, hot cup of mint tea from Tom, and now was finishing up the last of it while sitting on the park bench just outside the entrance of Weasley Towers. She'd hoped the hot drink would sober her up, and it had, a little.

"Good morning!"

The sudden, jovial voice startled Hermione, and she nearly spat out the last swig of her tea. She glanced up slowly, and saw Ron seating himself on the bench next to her. "Please," she said slowly. "Not so loud."

"Sorry," he replied sheepishly.

"You know, uh, I... well, I don't have too many memories from last night," she stammered, "But, uh, we didn't... you and me... we didn't, well, you know..."

Hermione's face was blushing so scarlet at the insinuation that Ron couldn't resist have a little bit of fun with her. "It was a beautiful night. You made sounds I've never heard a woman make before."

"We _didn't..._" She repeated, aghast.

"Well... maybe not physically," Ron told her, relenting. "But spiritually, you are the best I've ever had."

Hermione pressed a hand to her upper chest, feeling her hammering heart slow back to normal. "Oh, well, that's a relief," she said, and laughed softly. "I, er... well, anything crazy I said or did, I just... well, sorry. It was just, er, a mistake."

"It's quite all right."

His voice had such a dreamlike quality to it that it caused Hermione to look back up at him in confusion. When she did, she noticed that Ron was gazing her, something glowing in his blue eyes that she couldn't quite identify. Surprisingly, though, it didn't make her feel edgy, as most of Ron's scrutinizing stares seemed to do.

He looked at her for quite awhile, and probably would have for even longer, but then something seemed to break him out of his reverie and he stood up from the bench. "Well, I... I have some work to do, so I'd best get to that. You get some rest, and I'll see you later. Come in when you're feeling better."

"Thank you," she replied gratefully, and watched Ron depart, running a rakish hand through his hair as he slipped through the office building's revolving door. And as plain a sight as it was, strangely and suddenly it made her smile.

---

By mid-afternoon, Hermione was feeling much more herself again. Her head had stopped hurting, and was actually hungry at lunch. And it had also helped that she had stopped by the Apothecary for a draught of restorative potion, as well.

Sitting at her desk, she had a number of legal papers organized around her workspace, and a large scroll, the ends almost touching the floor now, was sitting in the center of the desktop, on which Hermione was busily scratching away. She was so wrapped up in what she was doing, she hadn't immediately heard the entrance of a new person, until they spoke.

"Hermione?"

The curly-haired witch looked up to see her assistant, Claudia, standing in the office doorway. "What is it?" She inquired cordially. "If Percy's asking for the estate reports, I'm almost -"

"Oh, no," Claudia cut in. "It's just, there's a Hannah Abbott here to see you."

Hermione's brow furrowed for a moment, trying to recall if she knew why. After a minute of pondering, though, the answer finally bobbed to the front row of her brain. "Oh, oh yes. She's here to interview for my position. Send her in."

Neatly Hermione shuffled her legal papers into a tidy pile and set them aside, clearing away her workspace. She quickly twisted her parchment into a scroll, and as she placed it aside the rest of her thing, she looked up to see her old schoolmate walking smoothly into her office, a pleasant smile on her face.

"Hermione!"

Rising from her chair, she extended her hand to Hannah. "It's nice to see you. It's been several years, hasn't it?" Hermione said cordially. As they shook hands, she gave her old schoolmate an appraising look.

Hannah carried a professional aura, with her golden blond hair done up in a French twist on the back of her head, and the red robes she was wearing were crisp and ironed. "Yes, it has. I didn't even know what had became of you career-wise until I heard Ron Weasley had hired you as his lawyer. And now you're quitting!"

Hermione managed a casual shrug. "Yes, well... I felt it was time to move on, you know. Anyway, please have a seat, and we'll get started." She lowered herself into her desk chair once more, waited for Hannah to get settled, and then began, her tone promptly businesslike. "I'm sure you've read the job outline and I'd like to discuss some of your qualifications. Now, as you know, Weasley Towers is a real estate entrepreneurship. So I am assuming your experience with wizard estate law is par, or else you wouldn't even be here."

Hannah hadn't even seemed to notice the sharpness in Hermione's voice. "Of course, of course!" She replied brightly. "So, tell me, what is it like to work with Ron? He seems to have taken great strides since we knew him at Hogwarts!"

The curly-haired witch wordlessly folded her hands on her desktop, not sure how to respond. "Working here at Weasley Towers can be quite... rewarding, yes. I hope you will find yourself up to the challenge."

"Oh, I'm sure I will," Hannah said, smiling, "If you find me satisfactory for the position, that is! I've been working abroad for several years, at both the Bulgarian and Italian Ministries, but lately I've felt it was time to come back home, and dedicate myself and my work to England once more. All charity begins at home, don't you agree?"

"How brilliant. You're hired!"

Both women started at the new voice, and looked towards the doorway. Ron was standing there, leaning against the baseboard with a witty smile on his face. He stepped into the room to shake Hannah's hand, which she did, vigorously.

"Ron Weasley! How lovely! I didn't know I'd be meeting up with you right away," she said, grinning. "It's so nice to see you again, after all these years. I'm amazed by what you've accomplished since we left school."

"It is quite a gem, I must say," he replied with a chuckle. "But these last several months, I daresay it's Hermione who has been helping me keep this place like a well-oiled machine. We've had the best rapport that sometimes we even finish -"

"- Each other's sentences," Hermione quickly said, allowing a faint smile to cross her lips as she gazed at Ron.

He grinned at her, pleased. "Exactly."

"Sounds like an amazing team," Hannah beamed.

"Hermione?" Claudia popped her head back into the doorway. "Percy's requesting to see you. He wants to see your estate reports."

"Ah, yes, of course!" She exclaimed, jumping up from her chair and gathering up her scrolls. As she stuffed them into her bag, she said, "Hannah, why don't we set up a proper interview for tomorrow, say around one o'clock -"

"Oh, no, that's quite all right," Ron cut in, who was now sitting on the corner of his lawyer's desk, looking at Hannah. "I can finish up with Ms. Abbott, here."

Hermione looked hesitant for a moment, and replied, slinging her bag over her shoulder, "Aren't you coming to the meeting?"

"Perce only asked to see you, didn't he?"

"Well, yes, I suppose it seems so," she replied, almost airily, and started to walk out of her office. At the door, though, she momentarily turned back. Ron and Hannah were talking animatedly now. "Ron?" She asked, trying to get his attention. "Ron? Ronald!"

He finally looked up. "Er, yes?"

"Are we... are we still on for the Quidditch game tonight? Wimbourne Wasps at the Appleby Arrows?" She wanted to know.

Hannah perked up at the line of conversation. "Oh, I adore a spot of Quidditch myself. I'm a big Ballycastle Bats fan."

"Are you?" Ron asked, interested. "The Bats _are _quite good. But I have to say, I'm a Cannons man, born and raised. One day we're going to take the World Cup again."

"So... are we... are we meeting for the game?" Hermione asked again, a bit louder, becoming slightly agitated.

That seemed to catch Ron's attention. "Yes, yes, of course," he agreed brightly. "Seven o'clock, right?"

She started to reply, but he was already chatting away again with Hannah, who was giggling occasionally at his words. Hermione sighed, feeling the disgust well up inside of her, and turned around, walking briskly out of her office.

---

Just outside of Appleby, England, along a rolling stretch of countryside, sat the large Quidditch stadium that was home to the Arrows. Outside of the entrance, Apparation points were set up, and various debris laying together in the grass - cans, glass bottles, empty flower pots - was clearly a pile of used Portkeys.

Inside the arena, seats were filling up quickly, as fans arrived to watch the game. The game itself had not yet started, and so the stands were not yet as loud as they usually were.

In the top box, in two of the prime seats, sat Ron and Hermione, both looking down at the field and anxious for the game to begin. Ron was wearing a pale blue jacket, to show his support for the Arrows, even though he was still sporting an orange Cannons t-shirt underneath. Hermione, next to him, was wearing a pale blue blouse with the shape of a large arrow on the front, formed by silver sequins.

"So... what did you think of Hannah?" Hermione asked as evenly as she could, sipping from her bottle of butterbeer.

Omnioculars pressed against his eyes, he replied, "Oh, I loved her. She's great."

"Er, well... wonderful. Me too!" She said, faux enthusiasm dripping out of her voice.

Ron discontinued his study of the Quidditch field, lowering his Omnioculars and slinging them round his neck. "She's very polite, flatters me constantly, easy to talk to," he went on. "Very effervescent, everything I'm looking for in a new attorney."

"Well, erm, good," Hermione murmured, chugging more butterbeer.

"Since she's just moved back to England, she hasn't got anywhere to stay at the moment, so I've rented her out a room at the Phoenix Inn," Ron told her. "And since she seems to be so keen on Quidditch, I thought it to be courteous to invite her to the company outing."

"You did?" Hermione blinked. "Well... _I_ can throw a Quaffle, you know."

And without missing a beat, the redhead quipped amusedly, "Yes, at my head, I've experienced that." Leaning over the box, he said, "I think I see the Wasps down there. The game must be starting in a minute."

And indeed, the next moment, seven black-robed Quidditch players and seven blue-robed players soared out of their individual starting gates. Everyone in the stands began cheering loudly and pumping their fists when they saw the teams taking position. Hermione seemed to be the only one out of joint, however, as she sat far back in her chair, arms crossed, grumbling to herself.

---

**To be continued...**


	5. Chapter 5

**Two Weeks Notice:**

**Chapter Five**

-dutchtulips-

---

In rural London, just outside of the city, one specific stretch of rolling grassland stood empty and deserted to the Muggle eye. However, to magical eye, the several acres of barren grounds were very much filled, and filled by a luxurious sight. Several open Quidditch fields had been constructed, golden hoops dotting the land. Also scattered about were handfuls of lodge houses, picnic shelters, and terraces, where chess, Gobstones, Exploding Snap, and other games could be played. At the entrance of the recently erected recreational area, a tall archway stood, with a large, colorful banner tied to it. On the banner were the words: _Welcome to the 5th Annual Weasley Towers Company Outing! _

It hadn't been an easy spot of land to acquire, and there had been much paperwork to fill out to ensure the permits for all of the construction, as well. But Ron, face of a powerful and popular company in the wizarding world as he was, had all the right connections at the Department of Magical Games and Sports. And not to mention, a little help from the masterful quill of Hermione's had also aided in clinching the permits.

Right now, the pair who had made Weasley Towers' company outing possible were taking full advantage of it. Out on one of the Quidditch fields, on brooms a hundred feet up, Ron was currently racing through the air, his Chudley Cannons robes billowing out behind him. Under one arm, the red Quaffle was tucked, and his eyes were trained on the golden hoops at the opposite end of the field. Once close enough, he gave the ball an exuberant throw directly for the goal.

Hermione - playing the Keeper - sailed wildly for the Quaffle, but didn't get there in time. She watched disdainfully as the ball zoomed through the center hoop, and, gritting her teeth in frustration, glanced back at Ron. He was yelling victoriously, and high-fived another player - a slender blonde - as she flew up to him, giggling happily.

"Nice goal!" Hannah exclaimed.

Hermione, who had just returned the hoops from retrieving the Quaffle, glared at the two of them. She opened her mouth to fling a well-chosen reply, but before she could, a player from her team flew into her line of vision, averting her attention.

"Hermione, over here!" Claudia called, waving her arms in the air.

She obliged, tossing the ball to her assistant, and then watched as she zoomed down the pitch, the Quaffle in her possession. As the Chasers were some distance away now, Hermione relaxed her attention on the goal hoops, drifting slowly back and forth between them.

"Having a rough day?"

She looked up, and saw Ginny - who was playing Seeker for Hermione's team - drop several feet to talk to her best friend. Her eyes, however, were still trained on the field, specifically on Harry, who was playing Seeker for Ron's team.

"They are getting on my bloody nerves!" Hermione shot back. "Could Hannah drool over him any more? And Ron just shamelessly lets her!"

"You've known my brother for sixteen years. Surely you know him by now," the redhead replied, and then, hiding a smile, "But Hannah seems to be annoying you much more than Ron, I daresay."

She didn't reply to Ginny's remark; the action was speeding back to her side of the pitch again. Hermione clenched her jaw, ready for the Quaffle. She could see it in the curve of Hannah's arm, and kept her eyes glued to it. As the blonde soared in, throwing the red ball vigorously toward the left goal, Hermione launched her entire body towards it, wrapping both arms around the Quaffle and saving it just in time, laughing as she did so.

Righting herself on her broom, Hermione gave Hannah a haughty glance, feeling victorious over her save. She then tossed the ball out to one of her teammates, but before it could be caught, Hannah intercepted it, flinging back towards the goal again.

Fiercely, Hermione burst forward on her broom to catch the Quaffle, but she didn't fly high enough. The red ball bonked her directly on top of the head and, stunned from the pain, she and her broom plummeted from the air and bounced to the ground.

Hermione thudded against the grass and stayed there, feeling dazed. She only realized after several moments that her eyes were closed, and thus opened them, to see Ron, Ginny, Harry, Hannah, and Claudia all kneeling around her.

"Oh, Hermione, I am so sorry!" Hannah wailed. "Are you all right?"

"I don't know," she replied, groggy. "Do I have a concussion? Someone ask me something."

Ron was the first to come up with something. He blurted out, "Name the three types of numbers in Arithmancy."

"Er... character, heart, and... social," she answered slowly. "Is that right?"

He shrugged. "How should I know?"

It was then that Hermione felt herself rolling her eyes at him, and thus knew she was okay. She started to sit up, lethargically, and as she did, Ginny reached over and slid an arm around her best friend's shoulders. "Here, let me help you up."

Ron put an arm around Hermione's waist, also helping her back to her feet. As the three of them hobbled off the Quidditch pitch together, he pulled out his wand with his free hand, quickly conjuring a couple of armchairs on the sidelines. Then he and Ginny carefully lowered Hermione into one.

"You sure you're OK?" Ron asked gently.

She leaned back into the chair, resting her head against the side. "Yes, I'm fine. Go. Play," she urged, waving her hand at the Quidditch field.

"Well, all right," he replied. "You just stay here and rest, then."

Ginny set her broom aside, and sat down in the second armchair. "Don't worry, I'll sit with her."

After Ron had left, rejoining the others on the pitch, Ginny turned back to Hermione. "You really caught yourself one out there!"

The curly-haired witch made an indistinct noise. "Well, I was _trying_ to catch that arrogant move of hers."

"Listen to yourself!" Ginny exclaimed, not even trying to hide her amused smile now. "You're jealous!"

Hermione waved the comment off dismissively. "Oh, I am _not_. Why on Earth should I be jealous?"

_I can give you one good reason, _Ginny thought, following her friend's gaze in the direction of the Quidditch field, where Ron and Hannah were chatting amicably together. Hermione, she noticed, was still glowering.

But instead of pushing it, like she usually did, Ginny just shrugged it off instead. _Sooner or later, it's going to happen_, she figured. _Not matter how long it takes._ So, getting up from her chair, she said, "Aw, forget about it. You want to go over to the picnic shelter? They've spread out a huge lunch buffet."

Hermione pressed a hand to her forehead for a moment, but then followed suit, rising from her armchair, too. "Yeah, sure. Let's go."

---

Dusk. The company outing had finally wrapped up for the day, leaving cleanup and the dismantling of the lodges and Quidditch fields to the Weasley Towers construction crew. Now that the event was over, Ron had enlisted a number of Ministry cars for the ride back into the city, where Apparation points were set up.

Ron had waved one of the vehicles over, and now he and Hermione were both clambering into the backseat. Smoothly it pulled away from the roadside, and they were on their way back into London.

He leaned back, feeling content and enjoying the ride. As he did, he attempted some small talk with Hermione. "Shame Harry and Gin left early on the Portkey. I was ready to offer Hannah a ride back to the London in the Ministry car; I thought she'd like that. I was surprised when Ginny offered her transport back. She knew you and me were leaving together, didn't she?"

He glanced over at her then, and noticed she was grimacing and holding her stomach. "Hermione, are you all right? You look pale."

She bit her lip, then managed to utter, "I, er, I think I ate something at lunch that didn't agree with me."

Ron's cheery expression immediately changed to concern. "Well, what did you have?"

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Just some beef casserole, and some roasted potatoes! Well, and a few sausages, too."

"That's it?"

"Well..." She moaned. "There was this huge dessert tray... I couldn't stop myself. Pie, treacle tarts, éclairs... I wasn't very nice to my colon today."

"No, you weren't," Ron agreed. "Well, don't worry, we'll be back to Diagon Alley in twenty, at most."

"I don't even have that long," she wailed in reply. "I feel like I've swallowed a fire crab!"

He patted her affectionately on the back. "It's okay, don't worry. I've got an idea." Ron leaned forward, to the front of the car, and said to the driver. "Listen, my lawyer's ill. Can you please pull over? It's an emergency."

"I could, but I've got orders to get this car back to the Ministry at seven o'clock exact," the driver replied curtly. "Can't she wait until we get back to the city?"

"No, she can't," Ron said shortly. "Listen, just drop us off here. We'll get back to London ourselves."

"Fine." The Ministry driver glided the car quickly over to the side of the road, and Ron got the passenger door opened. He and Hermione slid out of the vehicle, and the moment he closed the door, the car had taken off.

The redhead quickly scouted the area. It appeared they were in a town square of sorts; several small buildings were scattered about, and street lamps lined the road. "Where are we?" He inquired.

Hermione, in her discomfort, looked around briskly, and then replied, "It's Puddlemere. A Muggle suburb of London."

"Ah," he replied simply, and then turned to her. Without another word, he slipped his arm around Hermione's waist, and then slung her arm around his neck. Half-carrying her, he entered the nearest building he saw, which was a small pub. A sign hung over the door that read: _The Fat Cat._

Ron, with his best friend in tow, pushed through the entrance door. The bar was half-filled, with Muggles, and a few of them looked up, staring at them with curiosity, as the pair entered.

"Where's your bathroom?" Ron asked the bartender. "My friend needs one straight away, I'm afraid."

The man pointed to his left. "At the end of the hall down that way."

"Good." He let go of Hermione, and she dashed out of the room and down the corridor. Reaching the bathroom, she shut the door quite loudly behind her.

Now that he had gotten her here, Ron wasn't sure what to do next. He could feel the strange stares of the Muggles on him - they were probably because he was still wearing his Quidditch garb - but tried his best to ignore them. Hesitantly, he sat down on one of the stools at the bar. He opened his mouth to ask for a butterbeer, but then, remembering where he was, he promptly shut his mouth again.

The bartender gave him an odd look at this, but said nothing. Approaching Ron, he asked, a bit slowly, "Er... can I get you anything?"

"Uh... well... I'll have a..." The redhead struggled to think of a Muggle drink. At last he was able to remember one, one that shared a similar name with his favorite wizard drink. "Erm... beer?"

"Coming right up." The bartender walked away then, to fetch the requested beverage, but no sooner had he done so, than a person at one of the tables blurt out something to Ron.

"That's some mad getup, boy! Where're _you_ from?"

Ron turned around, and looked at the person who had spoken, a middle-aged Muggle man. Absently touching his orange robes, he replied, "Just came from a Quid - er, I mean, a cricket game. Yeah."

"Never saw any cricket bloke wear _that_," the man commented, but nevertheless, the answer seemed to satiate him. He went back to his glass of scotch.

Ron breathed a sigh of relief, turning back to the bar. As he did, the bartender stepped over to him, placing a full tankard in front of him. "Here you are."

"Thanks," he said politely, picking it up and taking a swig. As he did, his face contorted. _This tastes nothing like butterbeer! It's horrid! _He thought. Hastily putting the glass back on the counter, he abruptly got up from his seat and marched into the back hallway.

"Hermione?" He asked, tapping on the bathroom door. "Are you nearly through?"

Her response was a faint groan. "Ohhh... just kill me now."

Ron sighed, slumping against the door. This day was becoming excruciatingly longer and longer.

---

After nearly half an hour, Hermione had finally emerged from the pub restroom, and as soon as she'd appeared, Ron had grabbed her and bolted out of the bar. He couldn't take a second longer of those Muggles staring at him. Now they were sitting on a bench near the roadside, contemplating what to do next.

"Ron, I am really sorry. It's my fault we're stuck here."

He merely shook his head. "No, it's not. It was an emergency."

"But we've probably missed the Apparation points by now! And we don't have any Portkeys, either," she added glumly. "And I'm not risking doing any magic in front of the Muggles. I suppose if we start walking -" She stopped. "Ron, what on Earth are you doing? Didn't you just hear what I said?"

He was withdrawing his wand from his pocket. Ignoring her protests, he said, "Come on, step up to the curb."

With a bit of reluctance, she did, and the moment she joined his side, he flung his wand hand out.

_Bang!_

Hermione was thrown back several steps as the noise, and once she'd regained her footing, she looked up to see what had caused it. A bright purple bus with gold lettering on the windshield was standing there in the road now - the Knight Bus!

Ron looked at her and grinned. "Problem solved, eh?" He said, as the doors opened to admit them.

Hermione allowed herself to smile back as she climbed onboard with him. Once they were both on the bus, they were greeted by the conductor, Stan Shunpike himself. He was many years older now, but was still as jolly as ever.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus!" He said energetically. "Ron Weasley! What a pleasure to 'ave you on our bus! And Hermione Granger, as well, o'course! Great to see you both! So, whereabouts are we taking you this evening?"

Ron grinned again, slapping Stan heartily on the back. "The Leaky Cauldron, if you don't mind."

"O'course, o'course!" He repeated. "For the two o' you, that'll be one galleon and five sickles."

"No problem," Ron said, reaching into his pocket to extract some money. As he paid Stan, Hermione stepped further into the bus, taking a seat atop one of the feather beds. After a few more moments' exchange with Stan, Ron walked over and joined her.

"We should be there in no time," he told her. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," she replied, and smiled. "Thanks again for asking."

"Of course." Ron looked at her, silent for a long moment, mulling over his next words. "Listen," he started to say, "I _am _sorry that these last couple of months have been... unbearable for you."

"Not at all," Hermione remarked. "You know me. Unbearable would have been... bearable."

He looked amused for a moment, and then, as offhandedly as he could manage, "Well, then, I reckon it's good that your two weeks are almost up?"

She drew her legs up underneath her on the brass bed. "This is it," she said, letting out a long breath. "I'll secure the final arrangements for the Beast Division benefit gala, I'll make sure Hannah is properly set up, I'll look over the final draft of your speech for the Budleigh Babberton groundbreaking, and then... I'll never darken your doorways again."

Ron nodded. "Well, erm... great. Stupendous," he said, almost murmuring it. He glanced out the bus window then, unable to look at her or say anything more.

Hermione too had fallen silent, and after a few minutes, she slid closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder and gazed out the window along with him.

---

**To be continued...**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN - **Thanks muchly to those of you who have been reading and reviewing so far. I know there aren't a large number, but I'm glad there are people enjoying the fic! So thanks. ;-) And also, I thought you might want to know - this is the second-to-last chapter! Yep, after chapter seven, the fic will be finished. I hope you enjoy the final two!

---

**Two Weeks Notice:**

**Chapter Six**

-dutchtulips-

---

A few days later, back at work, Ron found himself in the staff lounge, preparing himself a cup of tea. He'd been busy all morning that he had almost missed lunch, forgetting completely what time it was. He'd been feeling so glum for most of the afternoon; truth be told, he'd arrived to work that morning feeling that way. He was pretty sure he knew _why_ he was so somber, but he was making a strong effort to ebb around it. So now, knowing he needed it, Ron had slipped out of his office for a much-needed break.

Almost absentmindedly, he dipped a spoon into his teacup, fishing out the dregs. He was still doing this long after he'd swept them all out - his mind was such a blur - and a number of minutes had passed before he noticed. When he did, he tossed the spoon hastily back on the counter, shaking his own head at himself. As Ron lifted the cup to drink, someone else walked into the room, joining him at the counter.

" 'Lo, Hannah," he greeted casually, taking a swallow of tea.

Looking up and seeing him there, she smiled widely. "Hi!" Grabbing a goblet, she picked up the glass carafe that contained pumpkin juice and filled her cup. "I had a good time at the company outing the other day," she told him, starting up a bit of conversation. "Great Quidditch game, wasn't it?" Pause. "Well, except for when Hermione got hit with the Quaffle! How is she feeling?"

"Oh, back to her old self, I assure you," Ron replied with a smile.

"I still feel horrible about that," Hannah said ruefully, sipping from her goblet. "But she _does _seem a lot better today. And good thing, too, with that benefit gala you're throwing tonight. What was it for, again?"

"Oh, well, it's for the Beast Division at the Ministry of Magic," he explained. "Hermione's a very big supporter of magical creature rights, so she has us give large amounts of money every year to the cause. We hold a soiree and everything for it at the Ministry."

"Sounds exciting."

Ron cocked his head sheepishly. "Actually, it can be quite boring. I'd tell you about it, but in reality, it would be too boring!"

Hannah laughed at his comment. "Well, I wouldn't know, I can't say that I've been to many of those fancy Ministry affairs."

"Well..." His expression perked up slightly. "A group of us are all going. Would you like to come along, and be bored?"

Her eyes twinkled cheerfully at the invitation. "Really? I'd love to!"

"Good!" Ron smiled with satisfaction, putting down his teacup. "I'll see you this evening, around seven o'clock, then?"

"You sure will." Hannah grinned one last time, and then slipped out of the lounge.

---

The sun was just beginning its descent into the west outside the window of Hermione's top-floor office, and she was most relieved that it was almost dusk, because it meant that her long, busy day at work - filing papers and confirming final arrangements for tonight's benefit party - was nearly over. Tucking most of her books and scrolls away in her desk, she began to gather up her satchel, preparing to leave.

"Oi! Hermione!"

The curly-haired witch looked up towards her doorway to see who was calling to her, and wasn't surprised to see that it was Hannah. Gliding into Hermione's office, she had several papers in her hands. "I've finished the documents that need to go to Gringotts. Here you are!"

She took the parchment from Hannah, and made a quick study of the neatly-written work. "These look very well done," Hermione smiled placidly. "Now, there are some estate reports that I'd love for you start on -"

The blonde bit her lip. "Actually," she interrupted, "I'm not sure how much time I'm going to have. Ron sort of, well, asked me to go to tonight's gala with him, and I accepted."

Hermione sucked in a breath, taken aback at what she'd just heard. "He - he did? Well, er, that's... great."

"I just have to figure out what to wear. I don't have anything!" Hannah exclaimed and, without even waiting for a response, hurried out of the room.

Hermione watched her go, but was still staring at the doorway long after her former classmate had disappeared. Her mind was a blank for several long moments, and she was still in a daze as she, at last, slung her bag over her shoulder and walked out of the office herself, closing the door firmly behind her and starting off towards the lift.

It was, at the end of the hall, next to the lift doors, that she saw Ron, who was talking to one of his assistants. Once her eyes fell upon him, all of Hermione's emotions returned, among them all a sudden surge of annoyance and fury. She quickened her pace, marching down the hallway towards him, though not entirely sure what she would say when she reached him.

Conveniently, she didn't have to. Ron spotted her first, perking up at the sight of her, and started down the corridor to her. "Hey, listen, are we meeting up this evening to go over my speech for the benefit?"

In a matter of seconds, Hermione's rage slid off of her, and a cool indifference took its place. "I'm sorry, I don't have the time," she informed him curtly, pressing the lift's 'down' button on the wall.

He seemed deterred by her comment, but nevertheless pressed on. "Okay, well, once we arrive, then? I _am_ going to need your expertise on this. Oh, and... well... I invited Hannah along to the gala, I hope that's all right."

"Oh, that's just splendid." The lift doors opened then, and Hermione stepped through them smoothly. "You two have a good time. I'll see you there, I suppose." And before Ron - who was staring emphatically at her - could reply, the doors closed, cutting one another off from sight.

---

"Ron! Ron, I know you're in here, please answer me!"

He could hear the all-too-familiar, reprimanding voice coming from his living room, even though he was currently standing in the walk-in closet in his bedroom. The redhead had been sifting through his rack of dress robes, trying to find the color he wanted, when he'd heard his brother's voice calling, demanding his presence.

Reluctantly, Ron staggered from the closet and sauntered out into the living room, where Percy Weasley's head sat, perched among the fireplace flames. His expression, as always, was serious and businesslike.

"What is it?" Ron inquired. "I'm trying to get ready for the gala."

"Look, it's imperative that I speak with you. I hope it's all right I come through for a moment."

Without waiting for a reply, Percy's head lurched, and he thrust his lanky body forward through the fire. Ron extended a hand to his brother, pulling him out of the grate and across the hearth. Coughing, the elder Weasley gave his robes a quick dusting off, and then put his hand into his pocket, extracting, of course, a file folder, from his seemingly neverending supply.

"Listen, I received some new estimates on Budleigh Babberton. Costs are going through the roof," he explained, reaching into the folder and pulling a piece of parchment from it. "We need to raise our funds in order to secure the estate, which means we're going to have to make some cuts. I've drawn up a list, I want you to look over it."

Ron took the paper from his brother, almost indifferently, and skimmed through it wearily. Halfway down the list, though, he stopped, and the apathetic gaze disappeared from his face, replaced by mounting dread.

" 'Tear down Flourish and Blotts'?" He read, looking back up at his brother with piercing eyes. "No, we can't! Not that one. I refuse to have it done."

Percy arched his eyebrows, looking irritated. "I don't have the time, or the patience, really, to argue about this. Every single cut on that list needs to be made. There aren't any alternatives. This is the most efficient way to increase our funds without losing profit. Then we'll be able to wrap up the deal, exactly what we've been working towards for months!"

Ron folded his arms across his chest. "Not if it means demolishing the bookshop, I won't."

"I told you not to fight me on this!" The elder Weasley's voice was rising. "We are not little boys living under Mum and Dad's roof anymore! This is your _job_, Ron! It's your duty to be there and close this. You are the face of the company!"

He sighed and stared at his older brother. "Okay, look. Whatever we lose on the deal, I'm in for half."

"Nothing! You'll be in for nothing at the rate you're going!" Percy shot back. "I don't get you these days! At all! You've been gung-ho about getting this estate since the beginning, and now that we're two steps away from securing it, you're perfectly willing to just give it up!"

Ron said nothing, knowing why he suddenly would back out of the deal they'd been chasing for half the year. However, he had absolutely no inclinations to disclose it with his brother. He tried to think of some excuse though, any at all, to give him, but it didn't seem to matter. Percy was already talking again.

"Clearly you don't have a clue, but our economy is not like it used to be. Everything we have, that we worked for years to acquire - all of it - could go. Faster than you could imagine," he said grimly. "We _need _Budleigh Babberton to come through. And you are going to be there to do it. Or else... I will fire you and revoke all of your bonds."

Ron looked up at his brother, eyes unblinking. Percy's expression was a sheen of severity. "I would take no pleasure in doing that, Ron, believe me. But I _am_ trying to stress how important this is. You _will _help me secure this estate, correct?"

The younger Weasley let out a long, resigned sigh, saying finally, "... I'm surprised you have to ask."

Percy, looking mollified now, silently tucked the file folder away in his pocket again and replied, "Well, I wasn't really asking."

---

The top floor of the Ministry of Magic. The building's large, spacious reception hall was decorated whimsically with long ropes of silver tinsel garland, fairy lights, and multicolored baubles. Punch bowls and buffet tables were set up, and at the head of the room, a band - the Dragons Five - was playing. People were eating, listening to the music, talking. There were also couples out of their chairs and dancing. The party was in full swing.

Stepping out of the gold-gated lift doors and through the entrance, Ron stepped into the reception hall, decked out in his evening finery - hunter green robes and a jaunty tie; the tie had several dancing house elves embroidered on it. Hannah, his date, had her arm looped through his and smiling. Her blond hair hung loose against her bare shoulders, standing out against her sapphire blue, silk wrap dress, the skirt gathered with a flourish by the blue rosette on the waist.

Dozens of small, candlelit dining tables were set up along the outskirts of the dance floor, at which one Ron spotted Percy, accompanied by his wife, Penelope, both sitting and enjoying servings of roast beef and jacket potatoes.

"Oi, Ron!" Percy greeted as he saw his brother and Hannah approach their table. "Corking to see you. And you, Hannah."

She beamed at the couple. "Good evening, Percy, Penelope."

"Fairly good turnout, don't you think?" Ron mused, looking around the room, as he and Hannah sat down at the table.

"The food is quite excellent," was his brother's response. "It's really the only thing that makes these functions worth coming to."

Ron stared at Percy for a moment, his eyebrows drawing together, but didn't reply, instead changing the subject. "Ah, yes, well, would anyone care for a drink?" He asked, edging out of his chair. "I sure could use one myself."

"I'd love some white wine," Hannah said.

He nodded and sauntered off back across the reception hall and to the drinks table, glad to have a moment away from everyone, even if it was just to retrieve the refreshments. Ron grabbed a goblet and one of the champagne bottles, filling the cup generously. As he was reaching into the ice bucket to pick up a butterbeer for himself, it was then that he looked up to survey the room again.

And as he did, his breath caught in his throat.

His eyes had fallen upon her just as she was entering the reception hall. At first Ron couldn't even believe that it was her, but instinctively he knew it was. She was utterly gorgeous tonight, there was just no denying it. He took another moment to drink in her lovely appearance - she was wearing a pale yellow, satin gown, with green wedges of chiffon sewn into the skirt, making it look even fuller. The bodice was crisscrossed with bands of green velvet, tied in bows, and a green stole adorning her bare shoulders matched her dress. Her bushy nutmeg hair was pulled back, into a chignon at the base of her neck.

It was like the Yule Ball again, all of those years ago, seeing teenage Hermione Granger so beautiful and fancy for the first time in his life.

But unlike the last time, she was staring directly at Ron.

He blinked, his heart starting to beat a bit faster as he realized that she had spotted him. She was smiling, a sparkling beam that seemed to be taking over her entire face, and was walking towards him now. Abandoning the drinks, adrenaline pumping through his veins, Ron obliged and started across the floor for her.

At last they met, standing there and facing each other. Hermione was looking at him, as if expecting him to say something, and Ron himself was expecting it, too. He kept opening and closing his mouth, but was having a hard time getting any words out. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he didn't know quite how.

Finally, he was able to get his voice to work. "You - you look so... so stunning."

Hermione bit her lip; it was trembling. But from whatever emotion, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he simply couldn't take his eyes off of her.

"Nice tie," she told him, looking amused. "It'd look better on me, don't you think?"

Ron chuckled at her remark. "Well, ordinarily I reckon it would suit you quite well," he replied, and then his eyes softened once more, "... But not tonight."

Hermione clutched at her heart for a moment, smiling warmly at him. He was quite sure she was choked up at his comment, and he couldn't stop smiling because of it. But then, abruptly, the moment seemed to pass. She looked discouraged all of a sudden, quickly enough that Ron thought he had done something wrong. But then, when he felt someone touch his arm, he figured it out.

"Hermione, hi!" Hannah chirped. "It's nice to see you tonight! I love your dress!"

She blinked. "Oh, oh, thank you," she replied, almost absently. She was still staring at Ron, who in turn, had not yet been successful in pulling his gaze away from her, either.

Hannah glanced back and forth between them, sensing that something poignant was passing between the two friends. "Oh, I'm sorry," she hurriedly blurted. "I was interrupting something, wasn't I?"

Suddenly Ron shook his head, seeming to finally come back to Earth. "Oh, oh no. We were just... going over my speech."

"Right," Hermione agreed simply. "Work, work, work!"

At this, Hannah's eyes filled up rapidly with interest. "Oh, you know, that reminds me," she said, "Percy wants me to revise the Budleigh Babberton proposal, since we're making all of those cuts and tearing down Flourish and Blotts. I could really use your help on it."

The last remaining bit of cheer dropped off Hermione's face and into oblivion upon hearing this, and her eyes - now, piercing and indignant - shot over to Ron. Only seconds before, she'd noticed, he couldn't stop staring at her. Now, he had suddenly found the ability to look everywhere else _except_ for her.

"E-excuse me?" She stammered, looking shocked, irate. "Ronald, may I have a talk with you?"

"No, wait - I think they're bringing out the entertainment any minute! Tap-dancing leprechauns!" He exclaimed, attempting to avoid the inevitable. He was positive it wouldn't work though, and knew it for certain the next minute, when she placed a dead man's grip on his elbow and dragged him off.

When she looked at him again, she hissed, "Put your arm on my waist!"

Ron was very confused, but understood straight away when he realized she had yanked him onto the dance floor. He obediently took hold of her torso, and then her outstretched hand as they started to waltz.

"Listen," he started right away, before she could, "I already know what you're going to say, but it's no use. I spent half the evening arguing with Percy about it and he won't budge."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I don't _care_ about Percy! I care about _you_, _your_ word, and the bookstore." She stared up at him expectantly, but when he said nothing, she looked away and sighed. "Oh, I see. You're just going to _let_ it happen."

"Look, it's not the end of the world," he replied, as gently as he could. "We still give galleons and galleons to causes and charities and everywhere else!"

But she barely paid attention. "That hardly justifies lying!" She said hotly. "You told me you needed me to tell you when you were being a prat, so guess what."

Ron was beginning to get annoyed. "Well, it's frankly none of your business anymore, is it?" He shot back. "In case you've forgotten one little detail, let me remind you - in a few more days, you won't be working for me anymore!"

At his remark, Hermione planted her feet firmly and let go of him. "I can't believe this!" She said incredulously. "You're not even going to _try_ to be the person that you could be!"

"This _is _the person that I could be!"

"_No_," she disagreed waspishly. "You walk around with the thought that you are second-rate and that there's nothing you can do about it. But I never believed it until right now, this minute." Pause. "This is the first time in a long time that I _honestly_ don't like you."

"Well, I..." Ron's voice drifted off. A flash of realization seemed to fill his eyes, but then it disappeared just as fast. "I haven't liked me for a lot longer. And besides, I'm not too crazy about you right now, either! Why can't you go be the person _you're_ supposed to be?"

Hermione was crestfallen. Not wanting to hear any more, she turned her face away from him. The reason why was obvious, as her next words had become clogged, "Oh, I see the mature part of the evening has begun." She stomped away then, leaving him there alone on the dance floor.

And Ron, as he had so many times in the past, watched her retreating form as it slipped away into the crowd. He wanted to follow her, but his heart felt as if it had sunk all the way down his feet, making them too heavy to move.

---

Once he gave his speech - halfheartedly - Ron had opted for leaving the benefit gala early. After his argument with Hermione, he hadn't been able to spot her anywhere; chances were, she'd probably left the party straight away. He didn't know where she could be, but he did want to find her, talk the whole ordeal out a little longer and try to set her mind at ease.

But first, he wanted to take Hannah back to the hotel.

After Flooing back to Hogsmeade and the Phoenix Inn, he walked with her across the lobby, over to the lift. While they waited for it, she told him, "Ron, I want to thank you again for inviting me to the gala. I had a marvelous time."

He smiled. "Really? Everyone in the office always thinks it so dull."

"Oh, no," she disagreed. "It wasn't boring at all! Not with you."

Ron glanced at her sideways, wondering if what she was implying what he thought she was. She was staring back at him with glittering eyes, which gave him his answer. Just then, the lift doors opened, and the pair of them stepped inside. He pressed her level's button, and they started up.

"How's your room?" He asked, casually.

"Oh, it's great," Hannah told him. "But I insist on paying you back, with interest."

Ron waved her off. "Oh, don't be silly," he said good-naturedly, and then added jokingly, "There's no need for interest."

Hannah laughed merrily but didn't reply right away; the lift doors had just opened on her level. Slowly, she began to step out, but then turned back again almost immediately. "Thanks again for a spectacular evening," she said.

"My pleasure."

"Okay, well... good night, then." Hannah tentatively leaned forward and gave Ron a short kiss good-bye. However, what was only supposed to be one kiss grew into several more, as she stepped back into the elevator yet again as she and Ron began to kiss more deeply. The lift doors closed once more and he fingered the top-level button, his eyes half-closed. Ron enclosed his arms around her, without even fully realizing what he was doing, or what he was getting himself into, only thinking about the fact that he was lucky enough to have his attractive, blond, lawyer-to-be harboring heavy affection for him.

A soft _ding_ alerted them that the doors had opened, and they disentangled themselves from each other to step out of the lift. Ron let her down the small corridor, and unlocked the lone door that was there. Wordlessly they stepped into Ron's luxurious apartment, dimly lit by lamps.

Shrugging off his cloak and hooking it on the coat rack, he turned back to Hannah. "Er, would you like anything to drink?"

She cocked her head to one side. "Some firewhiskey?"

"Coming right up." He gave her a smile, and then walked into his living room and over to the mini-bar. She followed, walking slowly as she surveyed the handsome room. In front of the fireplace, Hannah noticed, a chessboard was set up, the black and white pieces gleaming in the firelight.

She sighed. "Chess, I love chess."

Ron looked up, his hand still on the bottle of alcohol. "You do?" He asked, surprised.

"Yes, I do." Hannah turned to him. "You know what I like even more than chess?"

He gave her a puzzled glance. "Screaming yo-yos?"

She shook her head at him, and it was then Ron noticed the flirtatious glow in her eyes. "_Strip_ chess."

---

Following her tiff with Ron, Hermione had fled to the reception hall's bathroom to collect herself. She'd locked herself in one of the stalls, wiping her eyes and sniffling. Sitting in her doldrums, she almost wanted to laugh, remembering the last time she'd hid in a bathroom because she was upset with him. But so exasperated she was with him that, even when she heard him giving his speech, she didn't even care to hear it, and instead stayed in the stall where she was.

After twenty or thirty minutes of this, she took several deep breaths, feeling herself finally calming down, and finally left the bathroom. She knew she was going to bump into Ron again out there, and any more arguing he wanted to do, she was ready. However, upon reentering the reception hall, a quick survey of the room told her that he wasn't anywhere to be found.

Hermione's eyebrows drew together pensively as she wondered where he could be. She was able to locate Percy, though, still seated at the dining table with Penelope, feasting on generous helpings of baked Alaska.

"Percy?" She asked, approaching the table. "I'm sorry to bother you, but do you know where Ron is? I was, er, indisposed, and... now I can't find him anywhere."

"I believe he mentioned going back home to the hotel," the elder Weasley replied. "He seemed distracted; he left not long after giving his speech."

_He seemed distracted. _The words had an effect on Hermione, on multiple levels. The entire argument they'd been having tonight, the prospect of tearing down Flourish and Blotts, was - according to Ron - the decision of the very person sitting in front of her, and she thought, _Maybe it **is**__Percy I should be angry with, not Ron. Maybe that's why he left unhappy tonight, because he doesn't want to see the bookstore destroyed, either._

And then, suddenly, a rush of empathy flooded through her. She really needed to talk to Ron now. Hermione didn't even bother to give Percy a 'thank-you', or any other reply; she turned on her heel and left the reception hall as quickly as she could, intent on getting downstairs to the foyer, where she could Floo to the hotel.

Since the gala was still many hours away from being over, the lift was empty, thankfully. Hermione slipped through the gold-gated doors, and once it let her off at the ground floor, she strode quickly over to the fireplace, tossing in a bit of powder from the jar on the mantle, stepped over the hearth, and shouted her destination.

With a speedy whirl and a flash of green, Hermione found herself in the lobby of the Phoenix Inn in no time, stumbling over the grate in her hurry to find Ron. She dusted some excess fireplace ash from her dress, and then walked across the room, stepping inside yet another lift, pressing the button for the top floor, the penthouse apartment.

His door was unlocked when she tried it, so Hermione walked right in, as she had done many times while working for him. The corridor hadn't been very well lit, but the entrance hall in the apartment was, and for a moment Hermione had to blink her eyes to adjust. "Ron?" She called. "I need to speak with you!"

But the next person she saw definitely was not Ron.

Sauntering in from the kitchen, a cold bottle of butterbeer in each hand, Hannah appeared giggly and excited, not to mention scantily dressed, clad only in a black full slip. When she saw Hermione, however, her expression blanched. "Oh, Merlin! Hermione, what are you -"

" - Doing here?" She finished. "Well, I was looking for Ron, actually."

Hannah appeared glued to the spot, obviously still flabbergasted. Mutely, she gestured towards the living room. But Hermione didn't even have to take a single step forward because, the moment Hannah pointed, the man in question himself came strolling out into the entrance hall.

When she saw him, Hermione swallowed hard. Ron too, was not fully dressed - he was shirtless; the only items of apparel he was still wearing was his tie and pants. The fact didn't hinder, though, what was obviously going on. She almost could feel herself getting dizzy at the thought. Everything was turning into one big, bad dream.

"Hermione!" He croaked, looking petrified. "I - I didn't expect to see you -"

"Clearly not," she replied tightly. "I was hoping we could talk about the bookstore closure a little more; I actually came over here to apologize! But forget it, I can see you're too busy with... other matters."

"No!" He exclaimed desperately. "Hannah and I were just... we were, well... playing some chess, that's all."

But Hermione backed up, all the way to the front door, until she bumped into it. She gripped the knob as hard as she could. "Believe me, Ron, I understand!" She said in mock cheerfulness. "Why, I was just about to go and have some sex myself!"

And with that, she jerked the door open and ran out, slamming it closed behind her.

---

_Buzz, buzz, buzz. Buzzzzzz. Buzz, buzz._

Ginny Potter was growing crankier with every step towards her front door. It was late, she'd been sleeping, but the door buzzer had gone off, and because it had awaken only her - Harry was still laying dead asleep next to her - she'd had to drag herself out of bed to answer it. The person at the door was really leaning on the buzzer, becoming more and more persistent the longer they had to wait.

Finally she reached the door and flung it back impatiently. "What is it?" She snapped.

Hermione was standing there, still in her yellow evening gown, holding a pair of stiletto pumps out to her. "Thanks for your shoes," she murmured quickly, and turned away from the door without another word.

But Ginny, fully awake now at seeing it was her best friend who'd been at her door, dropped the shoes and rushed out after her. "Hey, wait a minute!" She exclaimed, grabbing Hermione's arm. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's nothing," she replied, sniffling.

"Come on," the redhead said gently. "You think I don't know when you're crying? Or why? Now sit down and tell me what went wrong with my brother."

The two women seated themselves on the front steps of the stoop, Ginny wrapping a comforting arm around her friend. "Damn you for being right!" Hermione cried, leaning against her shoulder. "I guess I knew all along that you were, but damn you anyway."

"Yeah, I love you, too," Ginny chuckled, trying to cheer her up.

Hermione let out a small sob, but then sucked it in quickly. "It's not supposed to be like this, Gin. It's not! Not after sharing sixteen years' worth of friendship with him."

"Well, maybe it is," she replied compassionately. "I mean, think about it. It's just like Shakespeare wrote, 'The course of true love never did run smooth.' And I had to fight for Harry, remember? It was the best thing I ever did."

This eased a watery smile out of Hermione. "Really?"

"Without a doubt."

"Then tell me what to do, Ginny, please," she said, her voice wobbling. Her tears were flowing freely now, and she hastily wiped them away with her stole. "It's as if he has to go through every other witch on the planet before getting around to me."

"Well, maybe he's saving the best for last," the redhead murmured, smiling.

---

**To be continued...**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN - **So, this is the last chapter of the story! It has come at last. ;-) Also, again, I really want to express my gratitude to everyone has been reading and reviewing. I'm so glad you love the fic, and I hope you adore this final chapter. ;-)

---

**Two Weeks Notice:**

**Chapter Seven**

-dutchtulips-

---

At last, the day had come. Hermione's final day of work at Weasley Towers, Ltd. A farewell party had been thrown for her in the staff lounge, and all of the employees had gathered to celebrate and say good-bye. The room was modestly decorated - a few bouquets of balloons scattered about - and a large dessert buffet had been set up: Honeydukes chocolate, toffee, and coconut ice; chocolate and peppermint toads; apple and cherry pies; éclairs; treacle tarts; spotted dog; and in the middle, a multi-tiered chocolate cake with white icing and purple rosettes, made of sugar.

Hermione was having a good time, in spite of herself. Remembering the last time she'd overindulged on the sweets, she'd taken only a slice of the farewell cake for herself. She'd hardly finished eating it before her assistant, Claudia, was calling her to the front of the room.

"Hermione, could you come up here for a moment, please?" She asked, looking antsy.

She got out of her chair, curious but game, and joined Claudia. "So, what's up your sleeve?" She smiled.

"Well, I wrote a small good-bye poem, and we all signed a big banner for you, too!" Claudia pulled a large cloth from behind her back, and unrolled it. Inked on it were signatures and messages from all of Hermione's employees, which she handed to her. "Now," she pulled a piece of parchment from her pocket, "are you ready for my poem?"

Hermione grinned. "Go ahead."

"Oh, good!" Claudia said enthusiastically. Unfolding the paper, she began to read from it. " 'I hope you've enjoyed our little shower / For here at the company it is your last hour. / We're really going to miss you at Weasley Towers / But we're sending you off with a large vase of flowers.' "

At her last line, Claudia waved her wand, and conjured up the biggest bouquet of white lilies that Hermione had ever seen. She took them gratefully from her assistant as the others applauded the poem, and returned to her seat. As she turned to gather up her box of personal items, someone hurried up to the table.

"Hermione!"

She looked up, and when she saw who it was, a queasy feeling began churning in her stomach. "Oh, hello, Hannah."

"Hi," the blonde said pleasantly. "I knew you were leaving, so I just wanted to say good-bye. And thank you, for everything. Where will you be going now?"

"Oh, well, a position at the Ministry opened up, in the Department of International Magic Law," she replied. "I applied, and they accepted, so I've decided to take it."

"How wonderful," Hannah said nicely. "And, also... I, er, wanted to apologize for... last night. That was awkward."

Hermione was quiet, fussing needlessly with her box. As she was moving some books around, she heard Hannah clear her throat, and so she looked up. "Yes?"

"Well, it's just... the Spellotape dispenser." She pointed to it, stamped with the large 'W' insignia, in Hermione's box. "Doesn't it belong to the company? But, er, never mind. I'm sure there are a hundred more here!"

She smiled thinly, tucking the tape away. "Well, I suppose I've earned something, working here eighteen hours a week, every week, since I started."

"Wow. You must be some workaholic!"

Hermione was still smirking, just slightly. "No, actually. Those are your hours when you work with Ron."

Hannah looked startled at this bit of news, but recovered smoothly. "Well, no, that's all right, I can be a workaholic, too. That's why I'm very adamant about separating my personal and professional life."

At those words, Hermione couldn't resist. She had been seething since this woman walked into the room. "Well, yes, I suppose that would explain the late night meeting in your knickers," she said sarcastically.

"I'm sorry?" This time, Hannah hadn't missed the nastiness in her voice. "That is none of your business," she snapped, and reached into the box to grab the Spellotape dispenser back.

Hermione's hand shot out for it right away, and as her fingers closed around it, she attempted to jerk the dispenser back. She didn't even say a word; the infuriated look on her face said it all.

But Hannah pulled it away from her yet again, and in the blink of an eye, the two women were nearly wrestling to the floor as they fought vehemently over the tape dispenser.

Hermione wasn't sure how long she'd been locked in combat with Hannah before someone wrapped their arms around her waist and was pulling her back to her feet. She stopped flailing her arms and legs long enough to twist around to see who it was.

"Ron?"

"Yeah," he mumbled. "Come on, we need to talk."

His hands still on her torso, he pulled her out of the lounge and into the adjoining kitchenette. Right before the door swung closed, she shot Hannah one last, vicious look, waving the tape dispenser haughtily at her.

Finally Ron put her down and let go of her, and as soon as he did, she turned immediately away from him. He, however, was gazing at her, his eyes boring into her.

"What on Earth was _that_ all about?" He asked, referring to the fracas.

"Well, your girlfriend wouldn't give me my Spellotape back," she said crabbily. "It's part of a new office strip search, I suppose." Pause. "Are you still planning on tearing down the bookstore?"

Ron stared at her. "Listen, I know you're still upset about last night -"

"Are you still planning on tearing down the bookstore?"

"I've been hoping all day that we could discuss -"

_"Are you still planning on tearing down the bookstore?"_

Ron sighed, feeling his frustration welling up inside of him. "What is wrong with you?" He suddenly blurted. "Are you incapable of talking about _anything_ except your own life?"

She merely rolled her eyes at him. "Are you still planning on tearing down the bookstore?"

"All right, all right," he said, trying to remain civil. "Let me remind you - you came to the hotel last night. I was with Hannah. We were... unusually dressed. You must have some feelings."

Hermione stared at her feet for quite awhile, as if contemplating whether or not to relent. Then, without even looking at him, started for the door. "I don't have to listen to this."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake -"

"You know what? Where do you come off!" Hearing his disdain, she'd turned right back around again, meeting eyes with him for the first time. Hers were burning with fury. "Where do you come off? Please tell me. Because believe it or not, I didn't take this job to be your doting little sidekick. I took this job for a _cause_."

Ron rolled his eyes. "You _are_ a cause!" He exclaimed. "You make Guinevere look like a bag lady!"

"You know what I can't believe?" Hermione shot back. "I can't believe how _easy_ you're being on yourself! Let's go over this again, shall we?" She slammed her fist against the counter. "_You_ promised me a bookstore -"

"Yes, I know!" He exclaimed, cutting her off. "I promised, I promised, I promised! And I'm sorry that I can't control the economy, that I can't control my brother... Yes, I promised, and yes, I'm sorry I let you down." Ron was getting emotional now. "But you know what? I'm _human_. I think you'll find that a lot of people are! Sometimes a magic wand doesn't work on everything!"

"What! I'm _human_, too, you know!"

"No!" He disagreed ardently. "Nowhere near! You're _too_ human, you're _too _perfect - none of us can keep up with you, and we've _never _been able to! It's because you're insufferable! Nobody wants to be preached to, Hermione! Nobody wants to live with a saint! Saints are boring."

The entire line of conversation lapsed into silence after that. Ron had been waiting for her to reply, with one of her waspish retorts, but when she didn't - and was now refusing to look at him again - he knew he must've said something hurtful. He stepped forward then, to reach out for her, but before he could do anything, the kitchenette door cracked open, and Percy's secretary was standing there.

"Ron?" She inquired. "Your brother would like to see you. As soon as possible."

He sighed, his hands dropped back to his sides. He tried to catch her eye, but Hermione ignored him, and he reluctantly followed the secretary out of the room.

Once he had gone, Hermione was finally able to look somewhere else besides her feet. She wearily raised her head, letting out a long, shaky breath. Numbly she fingered an empty buttonhole on her robes, and in her other hand, only now, did she realize she was still clutching the tape dispenser. She hastily dropped it to the counter, and sighed again. The next minute though, she felt her face grow damp as rivulets of warm tears spilled onto her cheeks.

---

Hermione sighed as she opened her refrigerator, reaching in and removing the pitcher of orange juice. She put it on her kitchen table, where a modest spread of food was already laid out - pancakes, sausage, fruit, and toast. It'd been over a week since she took the new job at the Ministry, and she was still trying to get used to her new routine, of which breakfast-making had now become a part. She'd never been much of a cook, but as she looked at the table now, and the food on it, she gave a satisfied smile. It was getting easier.

Slowly she seated herself at the small oak table, and piled some of the food on her plate. Just as she was pouring juice into her goblet, she heard a voice suddenly call out for her.

"Knock, knock! Hermione, you ready to go?"

She got up from her chair and padded out into the living room, where she could see Harry, poking his head through the ajar front door. Because he was an Auror, and she'd just started at the Ministry, they'd opted to travel to work together every morning. "Hi," she said pleasantly. "I'm not ready yet; I'm still having breakfast. Would you like some?"

Harry grinned and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "Sure!" He replied brightly, following her into the kitchen. "Today's Ginny's day off, so she slept in. Which reminds me - are you still going to meet us for lunch today? Leaky Cauldron?"

Hermione reached into the cabinet, pulling out an extra plate for her best friend. "Of course," she smiled, and sat back down to her food.

He reached for the toast, and as he did so, he asked, hoping it sounded casual, "And, er, are you going to the protest at Flourish and Blotts today?"

She stabbed her fork into a sausage. "No," she said shortly. "I'm not."

Harry shot a sideways glance at her. "You're kidding."

"No," she repeated, shaking her head. "I absolutely cannot stand to watch another building get knocked down."

"Hey," he said, a little loudly, nudging her meaningfully. "You've never just sat on the sidelines! As long as I've known you you've stood up for what you believed in. Always!"

"Harry, I'm _not_ sitting on the sidelines," she replied gloomily. "I can't just sit outside the bookstore all day, I have to go to work! And besides," she averted her eyes, "he's not going to listen to me anymore, so what's the point? Not to mention he said some horrid things about me that were so... so... true."

He gave her shoulder a friendly rap, and said, trying to raise her spirits, "So you change your tactics. You keep at it. You never stopped pushing S.P.E.W., did you? And when it came time for me to go after Voldemort, you refused to be left behind." Pause. "As long as people can change, the world can change. You know that, especially after everything that we've all been through."

"Yeah, I know," Hermione said softly, pushing away her plate. "But I just... I just..."

"What?"

She rose from the table. "I... I think we'd better get going to work, before we're late. Are you finished?"

Harry speared the last strawberry on his plate and put it in his mouth. "Yeah, let's go."

---

Half the morning was already over at the Ministry of Magic before Hermione had a moment to herself to relax. The fifth floor wasn't often an extremely busy section of offices, but Hermione herself had been rather wrapped up in work. Although her cubicle was prim and neat, her desk was towering with stacks of documents and scrolls, making the rest of her office seem a mess. Since arriving at work, Hermione been going through paperwork, but now a break in her day had a diplomat from the Welsh Ministry coming into her office for a meeting in only a few minutes' time.

Deciding to take advantage of her wait, Hermione left her cubicle to go the front of the large room, where there was a silver jug kept filled with pumpkin juice. She wanted to recharge her energy for the meeting, and knew that a nice, cold drink would hit the spot.

Halfway there, though, the immense walnut doors next to the drink jug creaked open, and the man who slipped through was the last person she ever expected to see.

Ron.

He was looking around slowly, as if lost, and right away, there was no question in her mind who he was looking for. Her fight-or-flight instincts were ripping away at her insides, frozen to the spot but doing everything she could to get away at the same time. It didn't matter though, because the moment she saw his expression perk up, she knew he'd seen her.

"Oi, Hermione!"

Her instincts had made a decision; they were walking her legs back to her cubicle as fast they could carry her. But Ron was already hot on her heels, and speaking rapidly to her. "Wait! Listen, I need your advice about something. And then I promise, you will never hear from me again."

Hermione turned into her office, and saw a young man with dark, curly hair sitting in front of her desk - the Welsh diplomat had arrived. She turned back to look at Ron, who was now in her cubicle, too, standing at the threshold. "Look, I have a meeting," she said curtly, gesturing to the diplomat. "Which means I'm busy. Come back later."

"Please? It won't take more than a few minutes," he said, and then, without waiting for an answer, continued on. "Okay, I've just written the speech for the Budleigh Babberton groundbreaking - my first speech entirely by myself since you worked for me - and I'd very much like to hear your opinion." Ron withdrew a sheet of parchment from his pocket and held it out to her, but when she wouldn't take it, he simply shrugged. "Fine, then, I guess I'll have to read it to you."

Hermione had her arms crossed, staring pointedly at the wall, but it didn't deter him. He cleared his throat and started. " 'I'd like to thank everyone for coming out on this very special day. Weasley Towers' paper on Budleigh Babberton will transform the estate into a magical community as innovative as Hogsmeade and will enrich our population tenfold. However, there is one fly in the ointment. You see, in order to raise our funds to secure, we would've had to destroy the bookstore Flourish and Blotts. And I gave my promise to someone that we would not do that.' "

He chanced a look at her at that moment, and he noticed that she was paying rapt attention now to his words. The sight gave him a surge of confidence, and so he continued on. " 'Now, many business rivals of mine can attest that my word wouldn't mean very much. So why does it this time? Well, in part because the bookstore is a jewel to Diagon Alley, and it deserves to be landmarked, but also in part because -' "

Ron lowered his paper to gaze at her, having every word on it nearly memorized. His blue eyes were shining as they looked at her, gleaming with emotion. " '- Because this person, apart from being terribly stubborn - and quite a prude, at times - she's... well... she's a lot like the building she loves so much. A little rough around the edges, but, once you get to know her... absolutely beautiful. And even though I've said rotten things, and driven her away,' " he gave her a poignant look, " 'She's become the voice in my head. And I think she _always_ has, but I just never started listening until now. I can't drown her voice out, but the truth is... I don't _want_ to. So... we are going to _keep_ the bookstore. Because I made a promise to her. And we made a promise to the community.' " He paused for a moment, and his voice dropped lower, "And I didn't sleep with Hannah."

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed as she peered at him, and then he hurriedly said, "Oh, that's not in the speech. That's just me, letting you know that very important fact."

She nodded wordlessly in reply.

"So, er... what did you think?"

Ron locked eyes with her, and for a long minute she was gazing back at him, thoughtful and contemplative. But then it simply passed. The gloomy look in her eyes, had returned. "I have to get back to work."

He blinked, feeling stung. He'd been hoping that the speech would win her over, but apparently it hadn't worked. He tried his best to hide the sadness in his eyes, but he knew it must've been visible, if even just slightly. Slowly, he folded up the piece of paper and stuffed it in his pocket. "Very well. Sorry to disturb you," he replied quietly. "Excuse me."

Hermione watched as Ron spun lightly on his heel and left her office, disappearing completely amid the sea of cubicles and out the double doors. Calmly she lowered herself in her chair, staring at her desk. After several long moments, she mumbled, "Apart from the sentence fragment somewhere in the middle... I think that's the most gorgeous speech I've ever heard."

And the Welsh diplomat, who had not uttered a single word since his arrival, nor all through Ron's visit, suddenly said, "Romeo would've been proud. The only thing I don't understand is what the bloody hell you're still doing sitting there."

She nodded in agreement and, bursting into tears, jumped up from her chair and ran out of her cubicle and the office. She looked quickly through the fifth floor corridor; it was empty. Feeling panicked now, Hermione dashed to the lift, making it there and sliding in just before the doors closed. She jabbed the button for the ground floor, and the lift chains rattled as it descended to the bottom level.

It felt like an eternity, but then the gold grilles opened and Hermione darted out of the elevator. In the middle of the peacock-blue hall, throngs of witches and wizards were rushing about to their various destinations. She stood on her tiptoes, searching desperately among the sea of people, and her heart swelled when she spotted a very familiar red-haired head among the crowd.

"_Ron!_" She shouted. "_Ronald!_"

She started to run towards him, pushing past the other Ministry workers, ignoring their affronted glares. As she did, she saw him turn around - he'd heard his name being called. When he saw her dashing through the hall, straight for him, the biggest, brightest grin broke out on his face.

Finally Hermione reached him, and without any warning, she dived right into his arms, wrapping hers around him as tightly as she could, enveloping him in a bone-crushing embrace.

"Oh, Ron," she exclaimed. "Thank you. Thank you!"

He hugged back warmly, chinning her shoulder for a moment before she pulled back to look at him. "And I know that I can be bossy and demanding, I know this. But I want to try and change because I think people _can_ change," she rambled, "and _I _can change and not be so difficult, you know? And try to meet you halfway, and -"

But her words drifted off as Ron reached over and pressed two fingers to her lips, shushing her. After a moment, he lowered them. He was still smiling at her when he asked, "Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"I... I am in love with you."

A huge smile stretched across her lips, lighting up her already bright brown eyes. "And I'm in love with _you_."

His grin grew wider, if it were possible, and he began to lean forwards toward her. Halfway there, however, he suddenly stopped. "Oh, yes, one more thing. I've resigned, and am now poor. Again."

Hermione couldn't contain a small giggle to escape from her. "Good. That's... good."

"Well, when I mean poor," Ron explained, looking amused, "I mean I may have to move back to the Burrow. Does that work for you?"

She reached up then, resting her wrists around his neck. "As long as _I_ don't have to work for you, we will be just perfect."

Ron laughed, enclosing his arms around her waist and pulling her closer to him. "And now... I'd very much like to discuss that whole manticore-pretzel thing."

"Oh, well, are you sure about that? A manticore sting kills instantly, you know."

"Truly? That's very disappointing."

"Yes, it is," Hermione said, and then a playful sparkle appeared in her eyes. "But I _can_ do the pretzel."

Ron didn't reply; at least, not with words. Leaning forward the rest of the way now, he tenderly covered her lips with his, kissing her deeply. She fervently returned it, their mouths mingling together. It was heated, passionate, and felt as if it would never end. Several Ministry workers passed them in the hall, and even a few stopped in their tracks to stare, as the pair were, more or less, making out right in the middle of the Ministry of Magic. Hermione, who was vaguely aware of the fact, would have laughed, but right now she found her current activity to be just too irresistible. And Ron, who had no idea at all that people were staring, had by now nearly lifted Hermione right off the ground as they went right on kissing.

---

The Leaky Cauldron. As Hermione stepped in from the courtyard door, she saw - as always - sitting at their favorite corner table, her two best friends, Harry and Ginny, whom she was meeting for lunch. The couple was chatting, sitting with a tall bottle of pumpkin juice between them. She grinned at the sight, feeling so happy she thought she might burst. Because, for once, she wasn't alone.

Stepping into the tavern behind her, holding her hand, was Ron. He too was smiling, albeit in a rather silly way. "I can't believe you insisted on this."

"Oh, hush up," she replied amusedly, pulling him gently towards their friends' table.

Harry was the first to see them, his eyes glowing. He waved them over enthusiastically, and once his best friends had stepped up the table, he turned to his wife and said, "Hey. Looks who's here."

Ginny twisted in her chair, and when she saw Ron and Hermione standing together - her brother with his arm around Hermione, and she leaning against him - she couldn't disguise the ecstatic beam that took over her entire face. She looked delighted, jubilant, as she shared a look with her best friend.

And then, Hermione said happily, "Room for two more?"

---

**el fin.**


End file.
